


The New Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone

by williamdrew8



Series: The New Harry Potter Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Character Death, Developing Friendships, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor, Gryffindor Harry, Gryffindor Harry Potter, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Origin Story, Original Character(s), Slytherin, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Step-Brothers, original backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 78,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13870827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamdrew8/pseuds/williamdrew8
Summary: This is my first ever fan fiction. I have started this in Wattpad and would mean the world to me if you could read this story.This is the rewrite of the entire Harry Potter Series. This has the same storyline as the original you know and love. But what if Harry had a long lost brother he didn't know about?This new original character brings a twists to the Harry Potter series without drifting away the story from the Harry Potter you know and love. I based this character off myself and this idea made my write it all down. The same storyline but with a few new major characters and new added plot. A must-read for Harry Potter fans. Includes LGBT couples and new characters and strong character development. Updates daily until completed.All copyright reserved. Harry Potter and Harry Potter related belong to J.K. Rowling. This is intended for non- commercial use only. This is for entertainment use only.





	1. The Boy Who Lived

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1 and 2 are basically the same from the book. Please skip to chapter 3 to read where the difference happens with a few minor changes. Feel free to read.

The door slammed and the woman crouched down next to the crib. Emerald green eyes staring into the other set of Emerald green. Her lips moved, but no words were sounded. The door flung open again. Without turning, the woman's lips moved once more. And this time, they sounded. " _Always_." There was a bright green flash.

"Get up!"

There was banging against the cupboard door. Harry slowly opened his eyes and reached for his glasses in the dark, his feeble attempt only resulted in him hitting his hand hard against the wall. It hurt.

The banging was getting louder now.

"I can hear you! I can see you in there!" The shrill voice of the woman sounded once more.

"Up!"

Harry exhaled when he finally found his glasses and sat up on his cot. The door next to him flung open.

"Out. Now. Breakfast isn't going to cook itself, I want everything to be absolutely perfect for Dudley's Birthday."

 _Of course_. Harry thought. _It's his birthday today_. He slips out a groan, clearly having just being woken up from his deep slumber, is extremely tired.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" The woman shrieked.

Harry Sighed. "Yes, Aunt Petunia..." he called out finally.

The emerald eyed boy ran his hand through his unruly black hair trying to tame it somewhat as his eyes were almost blinded from the bright light seeping through his eyelids. He sat up slowly and walked towards the kitchen, his blond haired aunt following from behind. Harry made his way to the stove to start breakfast. He looked over his shoulder, looking at the table that was covered with his cousin, Dudley's birthday presents. Harry looked back at the stove and pan, before laying down the first piece of bacon, before looking over his other shoulder to the table.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

Judging by the looks of it, Dudley had gotten the new computer he had wanted, along with two sets of large chocolate boxes, a brand new bike and the racing set. As if the brat wasn't spoiled enough. Dudley had a large pink face, not much neck was visible, and he had small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his fat head. It comes as a big surprise that he would want a bike for his birthday, seeing as his cousin was very fat and hated exercise, just like his father. The fact that he will even touch it is highly unlikely. The kid practically never moves or works, unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favourite punching bag was Harry, of course, but could never quite catch him because of his overwhelming size. Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He physically looked smaller and skinnier than he actually was because all he was given to wear were old, often torn clothes of Dudley. Dudley was about five times bigger than he were.

Harry had a thin face, a mop of messy black hair, and a pair of bright emerald green eyes. _Just like your mother_. His Aunt would always say. His eyes sparkled like gems and were hidden behind round glasses that were held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the time Dudley punched him on the nose. Harry also had a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning, it shimmered a faded white. He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question Harry could remember asking his Uncle Vermon was how he had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your brother and parents died," he had told him looking as if he had smelled something rotten. "And don't ask questions, boy."

Harry was cracking three eggs open, he was wondering what would've happened if his parents and his brother survived the car crash. He was lost in his own thoughts what a loud voice snapped him out of his daydreaming.

"How many presents are here, Dad?" Dudley asked while proceeding to tear his present apart.

"Oh... Thirty six, my boy." Vermon boomed.

"Thirty-six?" Dudley shouted as Harry watched from over his shoulder, "that's two less than last year!" Dudley said as his face began to turn red, alerting everyone that a tantrum was on the way. Harry, finished with his eggs, quickly distracted himself as he scooted away from the stove to set up the table.

"Oh, don't worry, darling. We'll buy you another two presents while we're out shopping today. Hm? Two more presents. Is that all right?" Aunt Petunia soothed. Dudley's face returned to its normal colour as he thought for a moment, though it looked like hard work for him.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room.

"So I'll have thirty... thirty..." Dudley said slowly.

"Thirty-nine, sweetgums." Aunt Petunia said.

"Oh," Dudley replied as he sat down heavily on the three person sofa, though now with him sitting there, it looked like it was made for one, "all right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father.'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment, Aunt Petunia whispered something in Vermon's ears and vermon grew red.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE HAVE TO TAKE HIM?!" He boomed.

"Calm down dear, the nanny's sick and there's no one to watch him."

"...We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon sighed and suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully _(he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer)._

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave him in the car...."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone...."

Dudley began to cry loudly, except he wasn't really crying.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!"

He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

...

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with his cousin, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.

"I'm warning you," he boomed, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "any funny business, anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry timidly, "honestly.."

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and his parents to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't his cupboard under the stairs.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley threw a tantrum because his Knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream the Dursleys hesitantly bought for him on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep. Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father.

Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge. "Go on, move you stupid thing." Vermon boomed.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house. The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

_It winked._

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.  
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look as if saying:

_I get that all the time._

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil. "Was it nice there?"  
The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump.

"DADDY! MUMMY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE  
WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs and pushing him onto the ground. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor.

Harry was visibly upset and angry, how could Dudley be so mean? This was the only day Harry thought he could go through without having to get angry at him. He thought wrong. He stared at Dudley, he mouth opening to say something, probably to defend himself.

But what came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, he had feel into the reptile's exhibition, falling directly into the pond of water with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said,

" _Thanksss._ "

Unsure and shocked of the situation in front of him, Harry simply smiled and said "Anytime." As the snake gave a bow and slithered out into the open, more screams were echoed throughout the zoo.

Vermon and Petunia rushed over to see what the commotion was about, a very wet Dudley was back on his feet and about to exit the exhibition, only to find that the glass had reappeared, he cried and banged the glass as Aunt Petunia screamed in horror.

"Oh my boy, my baby boy!" Petunia looked pale, as if she was about to faint.

Harry giggled as Vermon thumped the glass as hard as he could, catching the emerald eyed boy snickering, and he gave him a hard glare that sent his smile back into a frown.

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Dudley could only gibber as a towel is wrapped around him. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg.

But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Dudley calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Dudley was safely out of the room before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals."

"But I swear I've done nothing! I just stared at the mirror and it disappeared like magic!"

"There's no such thing as magic!!" he said before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen  
for some food.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten miserable years now, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents and brother had died in that _car crash_. He couldn't remember being in the car when his family had died, but he felt that it was a lie. Sometimes, when he slept during long hours in his cupboard, he was greeted with a strange dream: a blinding, flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. And why he looked like he was in a bedroom. He couldn't remember his parents at all. The only vision in his dream was of his mother, saying the word " _Always_ ", but that was all she said. He didn't believe it was real though, _it's just a dream_ , he thought.

His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house. When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. A small child, who looked no older than Harry himself with dark blonde curly hair and sparking purple eyes, yes, purple, kept staring at him with a face full of recognition one day when he was having a meal with the Dursleys one day. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.


	2. The Letters from no one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same as book, skip to 3 for a different twist of a new character.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike.

Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of sunshine hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smelting's. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilets have never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smelting's uniform. That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smelting's boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her 'Ickle Dudleykins', he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia, without taking his eyes off the revolting sight. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've  
finished."

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High -- like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Uncle Vernon came in opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a  
bill, and -- a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

**Mr. H. Potter**   
**The Cupboard under the Stairs**   
**4 Privet Drive**   
**Little Whinging**   
**Surrey**

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter **H**.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen.

"What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it.

His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the greyish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness -- Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," Dudley said loudly.

"I want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry didn't move.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" Harry shouted.

"Let ME see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

...

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. it was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling.

He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Err -- yes, Harry -- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" said Harry.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle.

"Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbour's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favourite program had been cancelled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want him in there... I need that room... make him get out...."

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

...

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.  
When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted.

"There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive --'"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact  
that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley -- go -- just go."

Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure  
they didn't fail. He had a plan. The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door --

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.

Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.

"I want..." he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.

"Believe me, I want to know." Harry replied, eyes full of hope.

...

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today --"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his moustache at the same time. "Tomorrow morning, early at seven o'clock. We're leaving. Pack some clothes tonight. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his moustache missing that no one dared argue.

Today was Monday. Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday -- and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Dursley's had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

That afternoon, Vermon was already packed for the next day, eager to get out of the house and avoid those letters. He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them wherever he plans to crash to deliver mail.

Harry privately, agreed. Though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, a storm blew up around them. Filling the house with bright lightning and loud thunder and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia settled Dudley down for bed before returning to her room with Vermon.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. The bed was much more comfortable than the cot he used to sleep in inside the cupboard, but he still laid wide awake. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The lighted sail of the clock hanging on the wall told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside, his room was just above the entrance.

Four minutes to go. Maybe the house would be so full of letters the next morning that he'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the wind, slapping hard on the window like that?

And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the floorboard broken?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine -- maybe he'd go to Dudley's room and wake him up, just to annoy him -- three... two... one...

BOOM.

The whole house shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, and jumped out of his bed, peering down the staircase to stare at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	3. The Keeper of The Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the twist begins. Introducing Killian Charming Original Character. This character would play a major role in the entire series.

_BOOM._

They knocked again.

Dudley was obviously jerked awake and came out from his room, standing next to Harry at the top of the stairs. "Where's the cannon?" He said stupidly.

There was a bang behind them as the door to Uncle Vermon and Aunt Petunia's bedroom flew open and Uncle Vernon came skidding down the stairs, stopping in the middle. He was holding a rifle in his hands. His packed suitcase was at the bottom of the stairs and he grabbed it to use it as a shield of some sort.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then --

_SMASH!_

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A little boy was standing at the door, he was visibly taller than Harry, but looked no older than him. He was still facing the ground as he stepped inside turned his head and fixed his gaze on Harry first, purple eyes met green ones as they sparkled, a sense of familiarity came over Harry, he had seen him before once. The boy had loose ashen coloured hair and slightly peachy pale skin, his eyes were bright purple and had rosy cheeks. But his thoughts were interrupted by Vermon shouting once again.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at, boy?!" He screamed at the boy. He clearly lost his mind.

However, the boy didn't budge. He simply turned his gaze towards the fat man and his suitcase, then seemingly spoke to someone who was still outside the door. His voice was calming. "I told you they were leaving, Hagrid. Do come in, you don't want to just stand there now, do you?" He said excitedly and gestured the person outside to come in.

A giant of a man was now standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't they make us a cup o' tea, could they? It's not been an easy journey..."

"Hagrid, you can't just break into someone's home and demand for tea." The boy spoke again. He was a mere child yet he sounded so mature.

They boy and the giant strode over to the sofa in the living room and they all followed them into the room shakily, except for Harry, who had his mouth open in awe. 

The giant turned to look at everyone, when his eyes met Dudley's, the fat boy squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes."

 _That's what Aunt Petunia told me_. Harry thought to himself.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway -- Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here"

"He sat on it on the way here...Don't worry, it's still edible...I think?" the purple eyed boy interrupted.

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat the giant pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with 'Happy Birthday Harry!' written on it in green icing. Harry looked up at the giant then to the boy. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you two?"

The two chuckled.

"True, we haven't introduced ourselves. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm. He turned around and gestured at the boy.

"This fellow here is Killian Charming."

"Just call me Killian." The boy spoke and looked at Harry with a smile before giving him a friendly hug. "I've heard so much about you."

Harry was just about to ask what he has heard about him. He thought no one ever knew him, or even paid attention to him. He had so many questions. But the words that came out of his mouth were "I've seen you somewhere before..."

The boy only smiled and replied simply "Perhaps."

"What about that tea then, eh?" the giant said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate on the table with the shrivelled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace and pointed his umbrella at the charcoal. They couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole house with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

Meanwhile, Killian sat down in front of the fireplace next to Harry and stared into the flames, he would look around the house around him and glance at the Dursleys, before glancing at Harry, who he seemed the most interested in. The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first ten fat, juicy, slightly burnt, sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little.

Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry and a few to Killian.

Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant and the boy.

Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you two are."

The two looked at each other with a smirk. The boy went back to watching the burning flames, occasionally stealing glances at Harry as the giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "Killian does, and everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er -- no," said Harry. Hagrid looked shocked.

Hagrid turned to glare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows.

"I told you they don't tell him anything. They hid everything from him. Apparently they were going to leave the house tomorrow to get away from all the letters." Killian had said, without turning his head

"Yeh, they'd still be delivered to him though." Hagrid replied. "I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole house. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. Even Harry was taken aback by the sudden outburst. Only Killian seemed unfazed.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy -- this boy! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING ABOUT OUR WORLD?"

 

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.  
"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like " _Mimblewimble_."

Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.  
"But yeh must know about yet family, yet Mom? Dad? Brother?" he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My -- my parents weren't famous, neither was my brother, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. He turned to Killian "Yeh were right. He don' know..."

Killian just shrugged.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he turned back to Harry said finally, his voice was calmer now. He slowly sat back down, his anger started to fade. There was silence.

Harry broke the science "What are they keeping from me?" He asked, giving in to curiosity. He wanted to know. He really did.

Hagrid turned to him " _Yer a wizard, Harry_."

There was silence inside the house. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"I'm a-- I'm a what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, leaning back on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon its abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter. He pulled out the letter and read:

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**  
**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**  
**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

_Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. We sincerely hope to see you join us at 1st September at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _Yours sincerely,_  
_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

 

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first.

After a few minutes he stammered, "What does this mean?" Harry paused and realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

But at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"Merlin, he's so clueless." Killian called out with a laugh.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like thern. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, dear Lily, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family! Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had two children. They had your brother, a year after they graduated and then another year later they had you! Although we never met your dear brother since dear Lily and James decided to keep our world out of reach for you two, I don't even remember the child's name. Oh and of course I knew you'd be just the same, Harry, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you! We didn't even know it was you until we read the letter that was placed on you that night!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up?? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Even Killian was getting annoyed and pretty angry at the Dursleys now, "He's your nephew!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious. Killian looked at Harry, face full of sympathy.

"I never expected this," Hagrid said, in a low, worried voice.

"I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone's gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys and sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but its incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"

"Who? "

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"His name was Voldemort." Killian said, breaking the science. He didn't sound scared at all. "He's known as the Dark Lord of the wizarding world. The mere thought of him is so terrifying that people can't even say his name without pause."

"Volde-mort?" Harry tried repeating.

Killian simply nodded.

"Blimey, just hearin it makes me heart pound. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers with his wife, Ravenna, otherwise known as the Dark Lady. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'because he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway."

He took a sip of his tea.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... An' I never saw yer brother before, he was only a year older than you. I don't even know what his name was, strangely nobody remembers him. All anyone knows is, You-Know-Who turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an' --"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find, an' yer brother was just a mere child-- anyway...You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. He took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer brother an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, the memory from his dream becoming more clear, more clearly than he had ever dreamt it before -- and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh and he heard panting of a child, who seemed to be running. Hagrid was watching him sadly.

Killian seemed to notice his pain, and for some reason, his eyes were full of sorrow and unshed tears, probably feeling sorry for Harry. "Your scar hurts at the mere mention of that night, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it's..." Harry proceeded to show him the scar on his forehead.

"I know what it looks like, practically everyone does, the shape of a lightning bolt. Never wondered how you got that mark on your forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what you get when a powerful, dark curse touches you." Killian finished.

"How do you know all this stuff about me? Surely just because my parents died, doesn't mean I'm suddenly famous." Harry asked again.

Killian answered him this time. "But that's precisely why, Harry. You're only known survivor of the killing curse. No one ever lived after Voldemort decided to kill them, no one anyone has known except you, and you were only a baby and lived. Your parents were master wizards and witches. But not even they could survive that, you knew nothing about magic, you were as fragile and defenseless as a muggle new-born, yet you lived."

Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched, there was silence in the room again. Vermon stormed across the room and proceeded to poke Harry in the chest, hard.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion --"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more word... "

Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. "But what happened to Vol--, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"It's okay Harry, call him Voldemort. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." Killian sat down next to Harry and smiled at him. "Dumbeldore told me that." 

Harry, still confused of what he's seeing, just nodded and turned back to Hagrid. "Why'd he go?"

"Some say he died. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back."

Hagrid breathes out a sigh.

Killian continued, "Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on... Something about you finished him, Harry. There was something going on that night he hadn't counted on. Something powerful enough to resist the Dark Lord."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. _A wizard? Him?_ How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," "Killian," he said quietly, "I think you two must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Oh yer poor child."

Killian snickered.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Killian and Hagrid, both smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him. He turned to Killian, equally as amused and happy as Hagrid is.

"It makes sense doesn't it, Harry?" Killian said.

Harry smiled and nodded vigorously.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed.

Hagrid growled. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts!? Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbledo--"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

Killian seemed triggered by this, and so did Hagrid. Vermon had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head.

"NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley-- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers. Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them. Hagrid looked at his umbrella, and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows, who was laughing along with Killian.

"Err, Killian. I'd be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said.

He turned to Harry before continuing. "I'm -- err -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"I would've gladly done that myself, but then I'd get expelled." Killian chimed in.

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- err -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore." Hagrid chimed in. 

"What about Killian?" He turned to Killian "why aren't you allowed to use magic?"

"It's annoying, but there is an age limit and rules to perform magic. I'll get expelled if I perform magic in front of muggles and get in serious trouble if I try to cast any spells without supervision.Thankfully, with Hagrid here, I can cast a few spells, but only weak ones."

Harry nodded and turned back to Hagrid. "Wait, is that why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly, avoiding the question. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

"Wait" Killian stopped from Harry taking another step when he put on the oversized coat. The purple eyed boy pulled out a stick from his pocket, it was beautifully engraved and designed. Killian looked at Hagrid. "May I?" Hagrid shrugged. Killian pointed his wand at Harry's oversized coat. " _Reducio_." Harry's jacket seemed to shrink until it fit him just right. It felt much warmer and more comfortable.

"Thanks." He said with a smile.

"Consider it your birthday present." Killian said.

"But that's me jacket," Hagrid interrupted. Killian stared at him unamused.

Hagrid rolled his eyes. "All right, fine, yeh can keep it if yeh want."

"Thanks Hagrid." Harry said, he didn't know what came over him next but he pulled both Hagrid and Killian into a hug. He was feeling happy for once.


	4. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian and Harry join Hagrid to Diagon Alley.

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid and a boy called Killian came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard under the stairs."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He realised he wasn't in the cupboard but rather in his new room. He sat up, still wearing the shrunk coat from Hagrid and Killian, he had forgotten he was wearing it. The room was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Harry made his way down into the living room. Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa. As if sending his presence, Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be Off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

"Um -- Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"Where's Killian?" Harry asked, looking for he purple eyed boy.

"Don't yer worry 'bout him. We'll see him later, he has a home as well, you didn't expect him to stay here did yer? He's goin' te Hogwarts too. So don't yer worry."

Harry nodded then look down at the floor before continuing. He was turning over the wizard coins Hagrid had left in his coat and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"But, I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed --"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the motorcycle, Harry settled down in the side car, grabbing onto the handle in front of him, still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter drive, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the motorcycle, and they sped off.

Hagrid talked about a lot during the journey, apparently there was a Ministry of Magic.

"They wanted Dumbledore to run for Minister of course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice." Hagrid explained.

A few minutes later the motorcycle bumped gently onto a street wall. Hagrid parked his motorcycle in a dark alley, and they walked out onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly,

"See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

...

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY UNIFORM**

_First-year students will require:_

_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_   
_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_   
_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_   
_4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_ Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags. _

**COURSE BOOKS**

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_   
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_   
_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_   
_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_   
_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch_   
_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_   
_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_   
_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_   
_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

_wand_   
_cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_   
_set glass or crystal phials_   
_telescope set_   
_brass scales_

_ Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad OR a dog OR a mouse. Other species of pets have to be approved by the Headmaster by owl to Hogwarts  _ **_ before August 31st. _ **

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS UNLESS GRANTED PERMISSION OR ARE UNDER SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES**

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. They continued walking until Hagrid made a sudden stop.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. But people didn't seem to take notice to the pub. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this be --?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."  
Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"

Harry shook hands again and again -- people kept coming back for more. He liked the attention, but it was getting uncomfortable, he didn't know any of these people. Hundreds of eyes were staring strongly at him as he looked around. Suddenly he spots a familiar pair of purple eyes at the far back of the crowd.

He shrieked "Killian! I'm here!" Finally, a person he at least knows.

The crowd split in two, creating a path for Killian to walk through towards Harry, it's almost as if the people worshipped Harry as some sort of saviour. Killian walked through the path as he embraces Harry in a warm hug.

"Hey Harry." Killian pulls himself away from the hug, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's nice to see you again. Sorry I left without saying anything, but I had to get home, I'll be dead if I didn't return on time."

"That's okay." Harry replied.

"The Dursley's gave you a hard time for leaving?" Killian smiled and there was concern in his eyes, Harry didn't know why he was so worried,  _Killian barely knew him personally,_  he thought.

"No, I don't think they even cared," Just thinking about the Dursley's makes Harry's blood boil.

"They sure looked like they did last night." Killian jokes with a light laugh.

"They do, but not about me, never about me, they only care for themselves." Harry sighed

Seeing this, Killian hugged him again "Hey, don't worry Harry. There are plenty of people here who care about you."

Harry smiled and allowed himself to believe that. This was all still too new to him.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Killian, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you. A-and you C-C-Charming"

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it.

"N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously.

"You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself."He looked terrified at the very thought.

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Killian, Harry." Hagrid interrupted.

They politely bid Professor Quirrell farewell. Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh'."

"He's always trembling though..." Killian said. "Seems weird."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Killian seemed to notice and placed a soft hand on Harry's shoulder. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley." He grinned at Harry's amazement.

They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring  
\-- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

Harry still had his mouth hanging open, at a loss for words. To him, this is life changing.

"Pretty amazing right Harry?" Killian smiled. He tapped Hagrid and gestured towards the shop Harry was now staring at.

"Yeah, you'll both be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.

"Look," Harry heard one of them say, " _the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --_ " There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon....

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin." said Killian quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him.

The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Killian and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

Killian sighed "Hagrid Stay still." He shoved his hand in one of the giant's pockets and pulled out a tiny golden key before handing it to Hagrid.

"Got it, Thank yer Killian." said Hagrid. The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.  
"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, they followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake.

When the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling. Killian laughed while helping Harry out.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

"Don't go crazy." Warned Killian, though his tone suggested a joke. "But don't be stingy, either."

All Harry's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London. Hagrid and Killian helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh."

Hagrid turned to Killian and Harry now. "Since yer have each other's company. Off yer go. I'll be joining yer in a sec." He turned to Griphook.

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They left for the other direction as Killian and Harry got onto a cart that lead them back to the entrance of the bank.

"Might as well get your uniform," said Killian, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. So Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop, sticking close to Killian, still feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, my dears?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Killian however just sat down on a stool next to the boy, summoned a book with his wand and started reading.

"Aren't you going to try anything?" Harry asked.

"I'm all set for Hogwarts, I was just here a few days ago." Killian said with a smile.

Harry nodded and Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to the boy, with Killian sitting down between them) slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"And you?" the boy looked down at Killian.

"Of course." He said and glanced at tHe boy with a smile. But the boy returned the smile with a sneer.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy.

He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own without special circumstances I think I'll bully father into writing to Hogwarts to request permission for special circumstances. After all, I am already special."

He sounded almost too confident. Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"That hardly seems fair now does it?" Killian said without looking up.

The boy only scoffed in reply and continued.

"Have you got your own broom?"

"No," said Harry.

"I do" Killian said.

The boy blinked and seemed intrigued. "How come you get your own broom. You don't look special at all." He sneered.

Harry was liking the boy less and less every second. He was about to say something before Killian looked up, unfazed.

The two locked gazes, grey eyes staring into purple ones. They seemed to stare at each other for centuries. Until Killian finally broke the silence.

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you. Now if you'll excuse me." He got up and smirked playfully at the boy who glared at him in return and went out of the shop, and headed across towards the ice cream shop. "Be back in a sec, Harry."

Harry sniggered quietly, he was starting to like Killian even more now.

He turned to the boy, who sneered, obviously annoyed by Killian's comeback, tried to ignore what just happened.  _You deserved that._ Harry wanted to say.

"Play Quidditch at all?" asked the boy, trying to change the conversation.

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house for reserve next year, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window.

Hagrid was standing there with Killian, and were each carrying two large ice creams to show they couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was getting frustrated by the boy's attitude by the minute. 

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer.

"Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh." said the boy. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? Father used to say they're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

Harry just shrugged. He was getting bored with this conversation.

"Who was that other boy? Someone is bound to teach him some manners. Father used to say that first impressions matter most."

"He's my friend, and his name is-" Harry started, wanting to defend his friend.

"What's your surname, anyway?" The boy interrupted again.

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid, he had two ice creams, one in each hand, and was taking turns eating them.

"Nothing," Harry lied.

Killian looked at him with a sigh, but didn't say anything either.

They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said,

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgetting how little you know -- not knowing about Quidditch!" Killian said with a laugh.

"Oh, please don't make me feel worse," said Harry. Killian laughed.

Harry told Hagrid about the pate boy in Madam Malkin's.

"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in."

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line O' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like football in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses in Hogwarts." Killian replied while eating his ice cream. "There's four. Hufflepuff values hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, fair play and acceptance, Slytherin values ambition, cunning, shrewdness and resourcefulness, determination, and fraternity. Gryffindor values bravery, daring, nerve, chivalry, willingness, and recklessness . And Ravenclaw values intelligence, wit, wisdom, originality, and individuality. --"

Harry stared at him in awe. "Woah, they all sound amazing!"

Killian laughed "Of course, which house do you think you would fit in?"

Harry thought for a minute then ducked a frown. "I'm not sure. The boy in the shop said he'll leave if he's in Hufflepuff... I bet I'm in Hufflepuff."

"Much better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid with a chuckle. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Hey!" Killian shouted. "Slytherin isn't bad. Not everyone was as bad as him, you're using the worst of the worst as an example, that's hardly fair."

Hagrid just laughed.

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts? And he was in Slytherin?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from the Curses and Countercurses section (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid.

"An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level. And besides, Killian has one."

Killian raised an eyebrow "I can show you a few tricks when we get to Hogwarts."

Harry nodded with excitement.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present." Hagrid said to Harry.

Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to --"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly.

"Do you have a pet too, Killian?" Harry asked with excitement.

"Yes, an Australian raven. It was my mother's, they live up to 22 years." Killian chirped happily. "I named her Eris."

"That's amazing!"

"Yeah, they almost didn't allow me to bring it back to Hogwarts because they were afraid the owls might hurt it."

"Owls attack ravens?"

"No. Most of the time, ravens attack owls in packs, but with one single raven on it's own, it may become defenseless. But that's not the case with Eris."

"Why's that?"

Killian looked at Harry with the wildest smile in the world. "Eris is magical. One of a kind. She has the power to do extraordinary things."

"Really? Like wha-" Harry smiled excitedly.

"Righ' boys." Hagrid interrupted. "Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read  _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._  A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Killian stood next to him and stared out the window. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter."

It wasn't a question.

"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

He paused to catch a breath before continuing.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had suddenly come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sit," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look as his gaze shifted to Killian, who was staring out the window.

"Ah. Mr. Charming." He said softly, giving a small smile. "You were here just a few days ago buying your wand, Pine wood, Fourteen-and-a-half inches, and Oh! Phoenix feather core, the rarest core type, yes, very rare, very powerful." He stopped and stood silently for a bit before talking again. "Back again this time with Mr Potter today, are we?" Killian simply nodded and smiled.

"Well, now -- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it."

He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head.

As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"

Harry tried -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and Killian was smiling, chuckling lightly, they both clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried,

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, Killian and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road with the snowy owl asleep in its cage in Harry's hand. They were still walking. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station;

Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry a hamburger and Killian a cheeseburger, and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry? You're very quiet." said Killian.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life -- and yet -- he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last.

"All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Voldemort-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents and brother died." Harry finished and Killian put an arm around his shoulder, giving it a brotherly pat.

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid and Killian helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me.... See yeh soon, Harry." Hagrid gave him a bone crushing hug, which seemed to tickle him.

Killian stepped up and gave him a soft warm hug. Then he placed both his hands on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Harry. Be safe, be strong." He smiled and backed away.

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid and Killian until they were out of sight, the words Killian had said still ringing in his head:  _Harry. Be safe, be strong._ He was sure he had never heard those words spoken to him in his entire life, they still had a lingering sense of familiarity. He rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and they had gone.


	5. The Journey from Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because of Killian's existance, some major yet subtle changes have affected the Harry Potter universe.

Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him -- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all.

Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while. Harry usually stayed in his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. He had missed Killian, the boy was practically his first friend in the wizarding world. And his presence is always somewhat reassuring.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Err -- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Err -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

...

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes -- he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up.

Two hours later, Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, platform number nine and three quarters was nowhere to be seen. In the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask someone.

Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-- Packed with Muggles, of course --"

Harry swung round. The person talking was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him -- and they had an owl. Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, Harry didn't realise he was staring at her.

"Mom, can't I go... "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it -- but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone -- but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.  
There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is -- the thing is, I don't know how to --"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry, it's Ron's first time as well." she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Err -- okay," said Harry.

The red haired girl, Harry assumed was the youngest, gave him a quick smile.

"Good luck." She said, cheeks flushed red.

Harry smiled back and he pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble -- leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run -- the barrier was coming nearer and nearer -- he wouldn't be able to stop -- the cart was out of control -- he was a foot away -- he closed his eyes ready for the crash -- It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry was in search for Killian, he had longed to see his purple eyed friend again. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty carriage near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Hello there." Killian said as he walked up towards Harry with his own trolley.

"Killian!" Harry turned around, completely forgetting about the trunk as it fell from his hands. It stopped a mere centimetre away from the ground, at the end of the step. He completed his turn and Killian was standing there with his wand pointing at the trunk, shaking his head and laughing.

"Merlin, Harry."

"Sorry." He gave the purple eyed boy a hug.

"Been looking for you. What took so long?" asked Killian.

"I didn't know how to get to the platform, took me ages. Hagrid didn't even tell me how to get here." Harry replied.

"What? How could he forget something so important? He seriously didn't tell you?!" Killian asked, eyes wide open.

"Yeah." Harry laughed. He still held the trunk, midway through the step now. He glanced at around Killian, he wasn't holding anything, just his wand.

"Where's your stuff? And your raven?" Harry said, full of curiosity.

"Oh, right. Already in the train. As for Eris, she's already at Hogwarts with Hagrid."

Harry smiled and resumed, trying to move his trunk onto the train. He stopped at the step again.

"Need a hand?" Killian offered.

Harry dropped his trunk again. Landing on his feet, a small "Ow." Escaped from him.

"Yeah, you definitely need a hand." Killian rolled his eyes and laughed.

With Killian's help, they found an empty compartment and Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in the overhead. They seemed to be the last ones as the train doors were now slamming shut. He turned back to Killian, exhausted.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"Don't mention it, now go make yourself comfortable, Harry. I'll come look for you, okay? There are a few errands I need to run. Don't worry, I won't be long"  Killian said and walked the other way.

Harry found an empty compartment and settled down on the comfy sofa like seat. There was the sound of a loud whistle, and the whole train started to move. Harry looked out the window and people were waving. Harry saw the boys' mother who helped him get through the platform waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, and then she fell back and waved. Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

 _I am going to Hogwarts_. Harry thought.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy from just now peered his head through the doors.

"Excuse me. Do you mind?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head "Not at all." and gestured for the boy to sit down. He glanced at Harry with a smile before taking a seat.

"I'm Ron, by the way." He beamed. "Ronald Weasley."

"I'm Harry." Harry replied with another smile. "Harry Potter."

The redhead froze. Eyes went wide. "So...So it's true then...I mean... do you really have the..." He pointed at his own forehead.

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. "The what?" He asked curiously.

Ron was quieter now and whispered "The scar..."

Harry, who seemed confused a second ago was now smiling, it made sense now. "Oh!" He said with a laugh and pulled his hair back to show the redhead the infamous scar.

"Wicked." Ron was smiling to himself.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" a nice lady was walking past with a cart full of sweets and goodies.

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, widened his eyes, but Ron's ears went pink again as he forced a smile. Harry could tell it wasn't genuine. "No thanks, I'm all set." He held out his sandwich, it looked dry and hard.

Harry had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many sweets as he wants, some for his friends as well. He searched for his pockets and pulled out the money.

Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts. He felt sorry for Ron and decided to buy some for him. "We'll take the lot" He said to the lady.

Ron was now staring at the shiny bronze and silver in his hands. "Whoa."

Ron continued to stare as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat. The next thing he knew there was food almost everywhere. Bettie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Go on then, have a pasty, they're for you as well." said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

Ron thanked Harry with a massive smile and munched down. Harry stared at the box labelled Bettie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans.

"You'd want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry.

"When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour -- you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and mar- marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a vomit- flavoured one once."

Harry shuddered and spit out the bean he was eating.

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh -- see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs.

"They're not really frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No," said Ron.

"But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and it leaped onto the glass on the window.

"Oh, watch it." Rob said as the frog jumps out the window and is blown away by the gust of wind. "Aww."

Harry looked back into the box and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and moustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry. "I've got Dumbledore!"

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "I've got about six of him."

The card read:   
**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**  
**CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS**

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back."

Harry was just wondering if Killian was going to come back, when as if on point, his head popped into the compartment.

"Hey Harry. I see you're making new friends." He smiled at Ron and sat next to Harry. "I'm Killian Charming, what's your name?"

Ron immediately smiled back. "Ronald Weasley, but I prefer Ron."

The three bonded over more sweets and chocolates. Ron was quite amazed to meet a person with purple eyes. Dim lights peered through the window as the train entered a dark tunnel.

"Were your eyes always purple?" Ron asked curiously.

"I don't know, I never really noticed, I think they always were purple." Killian replied with a neutral tone.

"That's wicked." Ron said in awe.

After what seems like forever, the train finally exited the dark and dimly lit tunnel, bright sunlight shone through the windows as they looked outside. The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. Harry looked back at the pair of boys, eager to start another conversation, but his gaze shifted towards something moving on Ron's lap. A rat.

Ron seemed to notice his gaze. "This is Scabbers, by the way. Pathetic, isn't he?"

"Just a little bit." Harry replied

"There's something strange... something familiar." Killian said as he stared at the rat, but he shook his head as the rat made a noise, dismissing the thought.

"Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow, do you want see?" Ron asked the pair.

"Yeah!" Harry replied in enthusiasm while Killian just nodded and moved closer.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door of their compartment, a young girl with bushy hair walked in.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy called Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She leaned against the compartment door and started down at Ron. Ron looked taken aback.

"Err -- all right."

He cleared his throat.

" _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow_."

He waved his wand, there was a slight flash of yellow light, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and was munching away.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl.

"I've heard of the spell, I'm pretty sure it's real. Perhaps you just need to work on your skills, Ron." Killian chimed in.

"Well, that's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me."

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either. She strolled over and sat next to Ron, facing Harry opposite.

"For example." She pointed her wand at Harry's glasses, resting it gently on the scotch tape that held the glasses and the broken pieces of glass together.

She tapped once. " _Oculus Reparo_."

The scotch tape had disappeared and the once broken glass was now good as new. Harry took off his glasses in shock to examine her work.

"That's better isn't it?" She then suddenly seemed to recognise him. "Holy Cricket!" She cried.

"You're Harry Potter!" She said in a squeaky voice.

"I'm Hermione Granger." She turned to face Ron, unamused.

"And you are?"

"Ronald Weasley"

"Pleasure." Though it didn't sound like it was a pleasure at all.

"Hermione, was it? I'm Killian." Killian offered his hand.

"Charming." Killian smiled.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"My last name."

"Oh! Of course, silly me. Lovely name." Hermione took it and smiled lightly before standing up from her seat. "You three better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon." And with that she dashes towards out the door. She stopped for a second.

"You've got dirt on your nose, by the way." She said to Ron. "Did you know?" Then she turned and left.

Ron was rubbing his nose, looking confused but amazed by the girl's talent in magic.

"She's smart, I'll give you that, but whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk.

"Stupid spell -- Fred and George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

Harry, Killian and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Killian.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, Hufflepuff would definitely be great but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah." said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"Oh come on, enough of this," Killian grunted "It was one dark wizard and then everyone in Slytherin are suddenly the darkest wizards history has ever seen. I doubt that."

"Fair point, I guess." Ron answered.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron and Killian's mind off houses.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked, changing the subject."

"Err -- I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world --" And he was off, Killian joined in with him, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was debating with Killian over whose Quidditch team was better. Ron was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"So it's true then?" he said. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. 

"And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all about your family. Red hair, freckles, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."

Ron's smile slowly turned into a frown.

"Careful, Malfoy. I thought your father said that first impressions matter a lot. I don't think insulting Harry's friend would leave a good impression on you from Harry's point of view." Killian chimed in, his voice was calm, but a sense of coldness seems to linger.

Draco turned to stare at him. "Oh it's you." Before ignoring him completely, turning away.

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. He was about to reject his offer of friendship when Killian chimed in again. "I doubt you can help him that much, Malfoy."

Killian stood up from his seat, "Crabbe and Goyle right?" The two boys just scoffed.

"I'll take that as a yes." With a flick of his wand, he muttered something, sending them both out of the compartment before locking the door and closing the blinds.

"What are you doing?" Draco put his hand down, turning to Killian.

"You don't even know my name." Killian laughed.

"If this is your idea of a joke, then you've lost your mind! What are you trying to accomplish here? Trying to impress the boy who lived? Trying to humiliate me?" Draco sneered.

Ron tried not to laugh again.

"Oh, as if." Killian's voice was now cold again. "I'm not humiliating you, I practically saved your guts. Harry was about to reject your friendship, not that I blame him for it because literally every person I know would do the same. But if he rejects you today, not only will you be humiliated even more." Killian walked slowly towards Draco and stood in front of him.

"But from what I've heard, you would probably spent the next seven years at Hogwarts trying to get back at him."

Harry was confused. Didn't Killian hate Malfoy? Why did it seem like he was helping him?

Draco was silent for a while. "So?"

" _So_? So, you are going to apologise to Harry and Ron right now, and then maybe they might just give you a chance."

Draco scoffed and then reluctantly faced Ron and Harry "Apologise? Are you mad? You should know better that Malfoys never ever apologise!"

Ron scoffed at that comment.

"It's a start, don't you think? Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your father, how is he by the way?" Killian said sarcastically.

Draco was now red with embarrassment and anger, he sighed again "I'm still not apologising but fine." Before holding his hand out to Harry, who seemed even more hesitant to shake it.

Killian nodded at him however, as if saying:  _Its fine, shake his hand_. And he reluctantly did.

"Just to be clear, Potter, this does not make us friends." Harry nodded in agreement and Draco faked a smile at them both before storming towards the door. Stopping and giving Killian a glare. "My father will hear about this. He always told me-"

"Malfoy." Killian said sternly. "You don't have to be exactly like your father, you know. You seem a lot nicer that he is."

Draco seemed to get more enraged by that comment, but at the same time, looked conflicted.

"You know nothing about me." He slipped out of the door, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle as they made their way back to their own compartment. Just a second later, Hermione Granger had come in again.

"What has been going on?" she said. "I've heard shouting from the end of the carriage."

Harry wanted to ask Killian what that was about, why he was helping Malfoy, but Ron's question snapped him out of thought.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," Killian suddenly said, darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after Voldemort disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched and was under the Imperius Curse. Of course there was no proof. I've read a lot about them since that day at Diagon Alley. They say that Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side, but Draco Malfoy had been raised under the influence of a man who once served the Dark Lord, his mother is a bit better but Malfoy's father controls the family most of the time, and I just feel like it isn't Malfoy's fault, he still a kid, and kind of a spoiled brat. But I want to help him change I guess, for once at least change the general public's opinion of the Malfoy family, that's why I helped him, besides he doesn't seem that bad ."

"Why do you want to help him change so badly?" Harry asked.

"Lets just say... my parents aren't the most pleasant of people... just like Malfoy's... but luckily I escaped them, and he couldn't." 

"Wait what do you mean?"

Killian looked up at him and smiled slightly. "My birth parents were horrible, followers of the dark lord as well... I escaped them and was adopted by my current parents." But Killian seemed even more sad after that comment. Harry could only sigh and look at him in empathy and gave him a small hug.

Harry understood now, well sort of. He felt pity for the boy. He could only imagine how dark and strict his childhood would be with his parents being previous servants of the Dark Lord. They probably didn't treat him well at all. But, he was still quite angry at the way Malfoy treated Ron and himself. He wasn't going to be nice to them anytime soon. And Harry won't return the favour either.

Harry then turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

Hermione replied, annoyed. "I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"I wouldn't say it was a fight since there was no punching involved." said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we get ready?"

"All right -- I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. Ron glared at her as she left.

Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles, but Killian didn't seem nervous at all, it's as if he's been to Hogwarts loads of times before.

They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor. The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air.

Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry? Oh, hello Killian!" He smiled at the purple eyed boy.

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.   
"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Killian and Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here?"  
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	6. The Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorting Hat chapter. Added character development and twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Removed the sorting hat song and Hogwarts song. Sorry.

The door swung open at once. They followed Hagrid across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices above the stairs to the right, they walked up the stone stairs and stopped once they reached the upper floor.

A tall, black and grey haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there in front of a large door. The voices behind the door were chattering non-stop, the woman waved her wand at the door and the noise stopped. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She stood, and waited till Hagrid was gone before she started speaking.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall.

"Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your houses." She gestured towards the closed door, then gestured at the four colourfully hanged banners next to the door.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw. Now, while you're here at Hogwarts, your houses will be like your family, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup-"

"TREVOR!" Neville cried, he spotted his lost toad at the foot of Professor McGonagall, he clumsily dashed forward to pick him up, staring up at McGonagall during the process, who was not pleased that she was interrupted and gave Neville a funny look.

"Sorry." Neville said in a quiet voice and dashed back into the crowd. McGonagall continued as if nothing had happened.

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily."

She left the first years alone as she opened the doors and slipped in before shutting them again, Harry tried to take a peek to see the inside but he was too far from the door, the chattering noises returned.

Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn't know any magic yet -- what on earth would he have to do? He hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived.

He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. Except Killian, of course.

"You aren't afraid of anything, are you?" He asked Killian.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Killian sounded confused.

"The test for sorting us into houses." Harry said again.

"Oh. What about it?" Killian asked.

"Oh, it's nothing, really." He really wasn't afraid of anything Harry thought.

No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need.

Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He'd never been more nervous, never, not even when he'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he'd somehow turned his teacher's wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom.

As if on time, Professor McGonagall had returned mere minutes later. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Hogwarts is ready for you." Professor McGonagall told the first years, "Now, form two lines, wizards in one and witches in the other, and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind Draco, who had sneered at him when he saw him again, with Ron behind him, and they walked through the pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting.

These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.  
Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing -- noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. 

McGonagall spoke again. "The sorting hat ceremony will begin momentarily, where each first year will wear the sorting hat and will be sorted into their new houses. Please welcome the first years to your houses with warmth and acceptance."

The hall was once again filled with warm applause as the hat bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only there was a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Charming, Killian." McGonagall called out.

Killian sat down on the chair and the hat was placed upon him, Killian glanced over and looked at Harry before smiling.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry felt like he was about to cry, his best friend was probably devastated, Harry was wondering if he could even survive a day with those people in Slytherin. Only, his thoughts were rest assured when Killian looked at him and gave him two thumbs up and a big grin, he didn't seem bothered by the fact that he was sorted into Slytherin. He mouthed the words It's fine. I'm OK. Before smiling at him again.

Harry smiled back, much less worried now.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. "GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, and he sat next to Killian, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left until him now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and  
then, at last -- "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice whispered. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that -- no? Well, if you're sure -- better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin although he was still a bit sad for the fact that Killian wasn't put in Gryffindor with him, he was so lost in his thoughts that he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down next to an empty seat.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted, Ron being one of them.

"Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley Pompously across Harry.

"Zabini, Blaise," the final student left was made a Slytherin.

The Slytherin table erupted with cheers as McGonagall rolled up the parchment and took the sorting hat away.

Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realised how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he -- a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff floating pass the table, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you -- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy --" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

  
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy, opposite Crabbe and Goyle. Harry was pleased to see, but at the same time, feel a bit sorry for Malfoy, who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements. Killian was sitting next to him, laughing while munching down his plate of food.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately. "He's actually quite a nice person, once you get to know him, but he proves to be quite... strange sometimes."

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding...

...

On the other side of the great hall, Killian looked over at Harry's table and smiled. His thoughts were interrupted when the house ghost of Gryffindor was removing, no, almost removing his head before replacing it to the horror of some of the students and the entertainment for some of the old ones.

Slythetin had a house ghost too. Looking down the table, he spotted a terrifying ghost, with blank eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained in silver blood sitting beside Draco who was just sitting next to him.

"Who's that?" Draco dared ask, he was very disturbed by the fact that a ghost drenched with blood was sitting next to him.

"The Bloody Baron," Marcus Flint, a Slytherin perfect, answered energetically, not bothering to look up from his plate as he chewed on more food. "He's our house ghost."

"Why is he covered in blood?" Draco asked, feeling braver as more time passed.

"He must have killed someone didn't he?" Killian suggested. "Didn't you know all us Slytherins are nothing more than rogues, scoundrels, traitors, and murderers?"

He gained a few laughs from the table but Draco was glaring at him. Draco didn't seem to get the joke.

"It's a mystery why the Sorting Hat would put you in this house, away from your...friends, why are you sorted into Slytherin anyways? You clearly don’t look like Slytherin material."

Killian didn't budge from the sudden outburst, instead replied calmly "Because I asked it to."

"Is this some sort of joke?" Draco was getting more upset now.

"I assure you it's no joke. I want to be in Slytherin for my own reasons." He said as he chewed on his food. "But the thing I said about rogues and murderers, was in fact, obviously, a joke.” He said and shrugged.

“I'm just saying what people have been saying about Slytherin, which to be frank, I think is ridiculous."

"Exactly," Terence Higgs, a second year Slytherin answered. "It is true that the house held He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named once but it's all people ever think and talk about. Heck, the Mythical Merlin was in Slytherin and nobody talks about that."

"Look. I'm sorry if I offended you just now." Killian said and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder.

Shocked by the sudden apology and the feel of warmth by Killian’s hand, Draco was taken aback. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

Killian smiled, but then Draco frowned, he remembers Killian from the train, his attitude and actions had left him angry but in a strange sense, more relieved. He was thankful for Killian, because if not for him, Potter would've rejected his friendship and he would've been completely humiliated. Who knows what'll happen then. So in a way, he was thankful for Killian. But he didn't need to know that. It wasn't until then he noticed Killian's hand on his shoulder.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Draco said.

"What am I doing?" Killian laughed, unmoved by the fact that Malfoy had just shoved his hand away from his shoulder, nudged him with his elbow. "It's called being nice, you should try it sometime."

Killian looked at Draco as he smiled again.

"You know, we haven't really properly introduced ourselves. Apart from the awakward encounter on the train." Killian extended his hand. "Killian, Charming."

"Charming?" Draco laughed before taking his hand and gave it a firm shake. "You some sort of fairy tale character? Prince Charming?"

"Yeah, yeah get the laughs out. And no, it's just a last name. A rather...'charming'one to say the least."

Draco snorted at the comment, but slowly relaxed and found himself smiling. He was actually starting to like this 'Charming' fellow, he thought.

Back on the other side of the hall, as Harry helped himself to a treacle tart as the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages."

"I think we all know the story about your parents, Harry mate." There was pity in George's voice.

"You must miss them. Don't you?" Fred finished.

But he didn't, he had never met his parents, never seen them in his entire life. Only dreams. And he didn't even think they were real. He didn't want to cause a scene so he just nodded and proceeded to change the conversation to Quidditch, he remembered how much Ron and Killian talked about it on the train.

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons. Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes -- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look -- a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to -- everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.  
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch, If first years would like to play please ask your parent or guardian to apply."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

...

On the Slytherin table, Draco was laughing as well, when he realised he was the only person laughing besides Killian, he clamped both their mouths shut, he didn't even know why he bothered helping Killian.

"That's a surprisingly tender gesture from someone who's so stiff all the time." said Killian beside him, slowly taking Malfoy's hand away from his mouth. He stopped laughing, but he was still smiling

Draco shook his head "Shut up. As amusing as that was, I am not subjecting to social suicide. Nobody's laughing except us. I'm doing you a favour here."

Draco stopped, quiet for a moment. "Not that I care."

"To each his own I guess." Killian said with a smile. "But thanks." He smiled at Draco and surprisingly, Draco smiled back.

"I heard Dumbledore's always joking like that. He just doesn't want anyone to interrupt his poker games with Sprout and Flitwick." A black boy from the opposite side of the table, Blaise Zabini said.

Killian heard the sarcasm this time, Draco did too. Wondering if he would ever be able to get anything but a riddle out of this new boy.

Draco shook his head. "Sure Zabini, then why don't you join then?"

Zabini only laughed.

They all resumed listening to the old Headmaster.

"-magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits  
along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet. At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

" _Caput Draconis_ ," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it -- Neville needed a leg up -- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

...

Meanwhile, the Slytherin first years followed Flint through the chattering crowd, out of the Great Hall, and down a marble staircase. Draco walked steadily down the stairs as Killian walked beside him, Flint led them down a set of stairs, then another, then another. The air getting increasingly colder, the further they went into the underground of the castle. Yawning loudly, Killian stopped abruptly when he realised they were here. Draco stared at him, seemingly annoyed at his loud yawning. When Flint held up his hand, Killian and the others were facing a stone wall. The corridor around them was empty with the exception of the expectant and tired faces of the rest of Killian's new classmates. Flint turned toward the stone wall, and muttered a few words.

" _Nulli Secundus_ "

The wall behind him slowly started to creak open. Killian stepped back with the rest of the first years. Apparently no one was expecting exactly this. The Slytherin common room was big and well lit, candles and torches were bright lending light along with the roaring fire emanating out of the ornate fireplace. In front of the fireplace in a lowered alcove were multiple chairs and couches were some students were already congregating. Doors lined all the other walls leading here and there, except for the far wall and part of the ceiling.

They were under the lake.

...

Percy directed Hermione and the girls through one door to their dormitory and Harry and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase -- they were obviously in one of the towers -- they found their room at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings.

Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he rolled over and fell asleep at once.

...

"Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Nott and...Charming?" Flint announced. "You lot are in the dormitory to the left."

They found their beds, six four-posters hung with deep Slytherin green velvet curtains lined the room. On the side of the room Killian heard a 'swoosh', the sound drawing his attention. There was a window in the main room, the lake was right through the glass as they watched marine creatures swim around.

"Huh, neat." Killian muttered, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind. As everyone claimed their bed, Draco closest to the bathroom by the entrance, Killian claimed the bed next to his. Crabbe and Goyle and Nott wound up at the two beds toward the back with Zabini one up from them. Killian's bed was directly under the faint green light of the lake. It wasn't long before the boys fell asleep.

Soon the whole castle was filled with sleeping wizards and witches, all sleeping soundly. Except for one. Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully -- and there was the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold, laughing at him as he struggled with the turban -- suddenly he saw Killian there in front of him, he looked younger and was running, he seemed to be carrying Harry like a baby before there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.

He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.


	7. The Potions Master

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armour could walk. The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Argus Filch, the school caretaker was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever. They had her class, Transfigurations next, but they were late.

Harry and Ron dashed towards the classroom and reached the class panting, but slowing down when they notice McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. There was only a grey cat sitting on the professor's table. They breathed out a relieved sigh.

"Blimey, that was close." Ron panted.

"Yeah, too close." Harry replied.

"Can you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if we were late?" Ron asked again.

He was silenced when the Cat on the professor's table jumped up, and transformed into the professor herself. They quickly realised she was an animagi, a witch or wizard who can transform into an animal and back. But the look on the professor's face, you could definitely tell, was not impressed at all. She walked towards the two boys whose mouths were now wide with astonishment and she stood in front of them with a frown.

"That was bloody brilliant." Ron spluttered, amazed by the professor's transformation.

"Oh, well thank you for that assessment Mr. Weasley." She smiled, but only ever so slightly. "Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter or yourself into a pocket watch. Hm? That means at least one of you might be on time."

"Sorry professor, we got lost." Harry said.

"Then perhaps a map?" McGonagall said, unimpressed. "I trust you don't need one to find your seats."

They both nodded and she walked back towards her table. The boys sat down in their respective seats. Harry was a bit upset that Killian wasn't in transfigurations with him. He had longed to see his friend again.

McGonagall started speaking again. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. They had also noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

...

Today was Friday, it was an important day for Harry and Ron. Meeting Killian at the entrance to the Great Hall had become sort of a routine.

"Hey," said Killian. "We have double potions together today."

"Yeah, I know. Snape's head of your house right? They say he always favors you lot, maybe you'll get lucky."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," Ron continued. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework this morning.

"See you there?" asked Harry, ignoring the glares of his housemates who were eyeing him sceptically.

Killian smiled brightly. "Of course," said Killian before heading off to the Slytherin table.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast. They were circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I already wrote to Killian.  
I want to hear all about you and Killian's first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled on the back of the note.

_Yes, please, see you later._

_Harry._

He sent Hedwig off again.

The same letter was delivered to Killian on the Slytherin table. His housemates seemed ambivalent to him at the best of times, he didn't miss the new look on the Slytherin's faces.

"Admirers already? You scoundrel!" boasted Blaise in an over the top voice.

"It's just Hagrid. I've known him quite a while now."

"Yes, we know you like to associate yourself with these kinds of people." Malfoy sneered.

"He's not that bad, why not I take you to visit him sometime?" Killian asked kindly.

"Oh please, we both know he hates my family. We're too good for him anyway." Malfoy snapped back.

"Just trying to be nice here." Killian looked away from the grey eyed boy.

Malfoy, for some reason seemed to feel guilty, he seemed to regret his decision. He stayed quiet for the rest of breakfast.

...

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Killian and Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to Harry so far. At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry -- he hated him.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape stormed in the classroom, the chattering immediately turned silent as he spoke. "There will be no foolish wand waving and silly incantations in this class..."

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Mr. Potter. Our new -- celebrity."

He continued to take the roll call but then the strangest thing happened when he said Killian's name.

"Charming, Kil-" He stopped when he looked at Killian, and they seemed to have a silent stare down for a whole minute. Before Snape quickly continued to read out the rest of the names.

Harry was sitting in front of Killian and Malfoy so he turned around and asked "What was that about?"

"I don't know, he was probably just mesmerised by my purple eyes." Killian said and opened his eyes even wider.

That must be it. Harry thought. Why else would he stare at him like that? It's not every day you get to see a person with purple eyes. He dismissed Snape's actions quickly.

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began.

He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had really caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making and don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins. However for those... select few..." He glanced over at Draco. "Who posses the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. Then again maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough..." He stared at Harry, who was taking notes. "To not. Pay. Attention. Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir." said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand again as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He was about to reply with an "I don't know sir" again but was saved by Killian when he spoke up.

"A bezoar is a stone like mass taken from the stomach of a goat, which acts as an antidote to most poisons, with Basilisk venom being one notable of those exceptions." Killian finished.

Snape looked at him, unhappily before speaking. "May I remind you Mr. Charming that you will only speak when asked to in my class. I need not remind you a third time."

Killian just sighed and nodded before leaning forward and whispered to Harry. "Told you He doesn't favour us."

"But that was a very good answer." Snape said suddenly, almost hesitantly. “Five points to Slytherin.”

"Oh, never mind." Killian leaned back into his seat and found Malfoy laughing.

"You were saying?" Malfoy whispered. "Something about him NOT favouring us?"

"Yeah I take that back, I see that now." Killian replied with another laugh. "Poor Harry. He's so clueless, isn't that right, Malfoy?"

Draco still wasn't particularly fond of Potter, but for some reason found himself nodding and saying. "As much as I hate Potter. I suppose the professor is being a little harsh on him." He turned back to see Killian smiling again, stupidly.

"What?" Draco asked, annoyed.

"Draco Malfoy, is actually being nice and considerate for once." Killian said, still smiling and looking at Draco.

"Shut up, I wasn't being nice or anything I just-" whispers were silenced by Snape's sudden loud voice again.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment.

Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Killian and Malfoy, whom he both seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Killian and Malfoy had stewed their horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You -- Potter -- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Killian gently tapped him behind his cauldron.

"Don't push it, Harry." he muttered, "Snape can turn very nasty."

Harry nodded sadly.

"Hey." Killian walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine. You'll see. Don't forget we have tea with Hagrid in a bit." He walked back to his own cauldron next to Malfoy, who was having a giggling fit. He stopped when Killian slapped him softly on the back, shaking his head.

Harry smiled, but only ever so slightly.

...

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were quite low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week -- why did Snape hate him so much?

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang -- back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. Killian was already here. He held a mug in his hand and sat by the fire. He gave Harry and Ron a wave as they stepped in.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

Harry walked over to Killian and pulled him in for a hug. He felt so low after potions and he was glad to see Killian and Hagrid again. He had needed that hug. He pulled back.

"Hey Killian."

"Hey Harry." Killian smiled and turned to Ron. "Hey, Ron" Ron smiled and waved back. "Aren't you going to introduce Hagrid to Ron?" Killian asked.

"Oh right." Harry walked up beside Ron and faced Hagrid. "Hagrid. This is Ron," Harry told him, he was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but the three boys pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Killian and Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students. Except for Killian and Malfoy for some odd reason.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot -- great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. Killian noticed and started getting suspicious. When he asked, Hagrid simply grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Harry remembers that Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen that day while he went to the robe shop with Killian. Had whatever was in the what the thieves were looking for?

As the three boys walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry? 


	8. The Midnight Duel

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Although he was friends with Killian, Malfoy was never really nice to Harry at all. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so he didn't have to put up with Malfoy much, but at the same time that means that he gets to spend less time with Killian, which was a bit of a tied situation. Then one day, they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"And besides." Ron continued. "We have Killian on our backs, so don't worry too much."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. Killian groaned every time Malfoy talked about quidditch, which would gain a few giggles but a death stare from Draco, who Killian just responded with a smile.

He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch through the Ages.

Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table, who he would share some with Killian, and sometimes Killian would keep some for Harry.

A brown owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet,

"You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. And Killian was walking towards them with a sigh. Harry and Ron were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Killian passed by and popped down the table for a quick hello, he sighed loudly as he looked at Malfoy, who was exiting the hall.

"Perfect." Harry started, relieved Killian was at least, actually one of t- no, THE BEST Slytherin he's ever met.

"Killian, can you please ask Malfoy to stop this ridiculous behaviour of his?"

"It's not easy, you know, given his smug attitude." Killian replied. "But I'll see what I can do. He still thinks you rejected his friendship back on the train and he's making such a big deal about it."

"I would've, no offence." Harry said.

"I don't know what his problem is with you two though."

"He probably hates us because we wanted to reject his friendship. And it's like you said, Killian. It might go on for seven years." Harry giggled.

"Well, I mean he did shake your hand, didn't he?"

"Well he did say back on the train that ' _This doesn't make us friends, Potter_.'" Ron said in his best Malfoy impersonation. Killian nudged him with a scoff and they were silent before looking at each other.

The three of them burst out in laughter.

... 

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground, everyone had identical brown broomsticks, except Killian, he had a special one, the wood was white in colour and the end of the broom was dark grey. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Harry had remembered Killian mentioning that he was allowed his own broomstick. He and Ron were both quite jealous.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked.

"Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Killian's broom went up immediately, and Malfoy's as well. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Ron's broom went straight up but smacked him in the face. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three  
\-- two --"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet, thirty feet, forty feet, fifty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher as he started to fall, and the broom continued to soar towards the forbidden forest and out of sight. Loud screams were heard and Madam Hooch was about to fly up and catch him when Killian beat her to it. Neville was still falling and screaming and the next thing they know Killian was holding him by his cloak collar and steadily lowered him down. Neville laid down on the ground and clenched his stomach and started groaning, face as pale as a daisy.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Oh no he's going to be sick," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get.".

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'" She turned to Killian. "Thank you for the save, Mr. Charming. I'm leaving you in charge for the time being, five points for Slytherin." She then left with Neville.

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his stomach, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in, except for Killian, who just shook his head.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl.  "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."

"So are you suggesting that she likes you? Parkinson?" Killian said, gaining a few laughs from both houses.

Pansy looked pissed as hell but didn't say anything.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.

Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"No. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- how about -- up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move -- you'll get us all into trouble." She turned to Killian. "Aren't you supposed to be in charge? Do something."

Harry ignored her. Blood was pounding in his ears. He then heard Killian speak, in a cold voice.

"No. Let them. Just let them." He was holding his own broom and his grip tightened.

Harry mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught -- this was easy, this was wonderful.

He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron. Killian's expression remained unchanged.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried. "Catch it if you can, then!"

Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin.

Malfoy only just got out of the way in time as he made a full spin on his broom without falling; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy. And don't even consider Killian as an option." Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. His face grew red of jealously. 

  
"Have it your way then, Potter.", he flew higher and he threw the glass ball even higher and further away into the air.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down -- next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball -- wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching -- he stretched out his hand -- a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, he zipped up to fifty feet before stopping, he was still far from the ground and he had the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. The next thing he knew was that Malfoy was flying towards him, he tried bumping into Harry but Harry dodged him. Malfoy missed and fell off his broom, he screamed for help as he started to fall. Harry gasped but then a streak of white, shot up past Malfoy. It stopped and Killian was on his broom, holding onto Malfoy with one hand. His expressionless stare was gone now. It was replaced with a sigh and a smile. Malfoy was still screaming as Killian lowered hin slowly to the ground. Harry lowered himself to the ground as well.

Harry stared at Malfoy, smiling. Malfoy was red with anger, he wanted to charge forward but Killian had a hand on his shoulder, he whispered something in Malfoy's ear. Malfoy's face settled and he turned away. Killian was patting his back and had an arm around his shoulder, comforting him. He was probably just scared to death by that fall.

 _Never thought Malfoy would get scared out of everyone._ Harry thought. But his thoughts were cut off by a loud shout.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than ever before. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts --"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously,

"-- How dare you -- might have broken your neck --"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor --"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil"

"But Malfoy --"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry caught sight of Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, but Killian wore a smirk that suggested- proudness? Even stranger, Malfoy wore a face that suggested guilt and regret. Harry walked numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice.

Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? Thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty. She slammed the door behind her and turned to face the two boys.

"Potter. Wood. Wood. Potter.”

She took a breath before continuing.

“Wood -- I've found you a Seeker." Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. "Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him.

"Light -- speedy -- we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor -- a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can arrange that. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks...."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

Then she suddenly smiled.

...

"You're joking."

It was almost dinner time. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall.

"Seeker?" he said. "But first years rarely -- you must be the youngest house seeker in about a century," walking beside Harry towards the great hall.

Harry felt particularly hungry so he sped up as he walked. "Wood told me."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just gaped at Harry.

"I start training next week," said Harry. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley were now walking beside them.

"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too -- Beaters. Our job is to make sure you don't get beat up bloody bad."

"Can't make any promises though of course, tough game." Fred said.

"Quidditch is brutal, but nobody's died in years. Someone will vanish occasionally but they'll turn up in a month or two." George finished and the twins waved Harry goodbye.

Harry continued walking, he was now terrified of what Fred and George had just said. Was Quidditch even safe for kids?

Ron seemed to read his mind. "Oh go on Harry. Quidditch is great, best game for release. And you'll be great too."

"But I've never even played quidditch before." Harry sighed. "What if I make a fool of myself?"

Hermione spotted them walked up to them. "You won't make a fool out of yourself."

"She's right Harry," Killian shouted as he walked up to Harry. "Congratulations. Seeker, right?" Killian asked happily.

"Wait, you knew? Did someone tell you? Did you know I wasn't going to get expelled?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Of course I did, why else would I have smiled at you? The same thing happened to me before. I was visiting Hogwarts back in the summer and Dumbledore and McGonagall caught me flying on my broom and were immensely impressed, they reserved me the position of seeker for my house for my first year at Hogwarts."

"How do you know I'll be as good though?" Harry asked. "Do you and Hermione really think that just because I'm the boy who lived, I'm suddenly good at everything?"

"No, we know because it's in your blood." Hermione said.

Harry was confused, and so was Ron. Killian sighed as he pushed Harry lightly from behind, speeding up his paced and walked until they stopped in front of a trophy shelf.

Ron and Hermione caught up with him as he spoke.  
"See for yourself." Killian pointed at a trophy plate with the name " _James Potter_ " engraved in a gold badge.

"Whoa. Harry." Ron said in awe. "You never told me your father was a seeker too."

"I... didn't know." Harry said as he stared at the badge.

"You are your father's son, Harry." Killian winked "So this means we'll be facing each other in the field, no hard feelings alright? I won't hold back." They continued walking as they reached the Great Hall. Dinner has already started.

"Neither will I." Harry smiled as the four of them walked into the great hall. Killian made his way to the Slytherin table as Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Gryffindor table.

Harry started eating hurriedly, he was so happy and hungry that he had chomped down four pieces of beef without knowing. He was so relieved that he has such good friends by his side. His happy thoughts were interrupted when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy.

"Here to boast? Malfoy?" Ron started.

"Will you at least allow me to say something before come out with those petty insults?" Malfoy replied. "Potter. I came to... I came here to..."

"To what? Apologise?" Harry asked. He wasn't speaking in a attacking voice but more of a understanding one.

Malfoy seemed to relax and replied. "No, Potter, I just wanted to say that I shouldn't have gone as low as to fool around with Longbottom's priceless artefact. I could've gotten us both seriously hurt."

Harry was taken aback by the unexpected apology and laughed. But it was a warm laugh. "Is that a thing you do now, Malfoy? Apologise?"

Even Ron seemed taken aback but he still didn't trust Malfoy. "Yeah. Is this another one of your tricks? I bet you didn't even thank Killian for saving you back there."

Malfoy sneered his face started to boil. "Will you two please shut up? I didn't even apologise. Did you hear me say sorry? No. Malfoys don't apologise to anyone, and yes I did thank Killian thank you very much and he's the only reason I considered doing this."

"Its fine, Malfoy. I forgive you even if you don't say sorry. After all, it's thanks to you I'm now the position of seeker for Gryffindor." Harry replied.

"Shush, Harry! You're not supposed to tell anyone yet!" Ron hissed

"Oh right!" Harry clamped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

Malfoy was clearly impressed but not entirely shocked. "I suppose you do take after your father, Potter." And with that, he smiled slightly and headed back to the Slytherin table.

"What in Merlin's name was THAT? Malfoy? Apologising? I'd never thought I'd see the day." Ron said.

"He wasn't really apologising, but maybe that was his way of saying sorry? I don't know. I guess I've got Killian to thank for that. And it was nice for a change." Harry replied. He looked over the Slytherin table and gave Killian a smile. He got a big grin in return.

Suddenly his view was blocked and he was now facing the last people he wanted to see. Crabbe and Goyle.

"Are you happy now, Potter?" Crabbe said. "I'm surprised you didn't get in trouble."

"Thanks to you, Slytherin has lost five house points. Someone snitched on Malfoy and we believe you're the one to blame." Goyle finished.

"This is for Malfoy. Tonight. Wizard's duel. Wands only -- no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, now which one of you is the second?"

"Goyle is second," Crabbe said. "This just got personal. Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Crabbe and Goyle had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second? Why didn't Malfoy tell us he got in trouble? Now I have to deal with his two fat bodyguards."

Ron chuckled at that last comment. "Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly. "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Crabbe will be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me." They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and the two idiots were saying --"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"--and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Neville, Dean and Seamus falling asleep . Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, maybe he could prove that Malfoy should find some new friends - this was his big chance. He couldn't miss it.

"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."

They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows.

They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy -- he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."

Harry couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering.

"Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so --"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we are going to be late."

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not."

"Did you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve --" said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Crabbe and Goyle weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case one of them leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak -and it wasn't Crabbe or Goyle.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Ron’s robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Ron suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -he tripped, grabbed Hermione around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the three of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following -- they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going -- they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Ron was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I -- told -you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I -- told -- you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Crabbe and Goyle tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you -- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Crabbe must have tipped him off."

Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a shadow came from out of the corner and Mrs Norris walked right in front of them. She caught sight of them and stared at them.

"Aww bollocks." Ron sighed.

Mrs Norris turned and ran.

The trio ran for their lives, knowing Mrs Norris would come back with Filch any second now, they ran right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door -- and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could and Mrs Norris’ jingling collar.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, ' _Alohomora_!"  
The lock clicked and the door swung open -- they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

They waited fine they heard the sound of Filch cursing in rage and his footsteps fading.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay -- get off, Ron!" For Ron had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute.

"What?"

Harry turned around -- and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare -- this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Harry groped for the doorknob -- between Filch and death, he'd take Filch.

They fell backward -- Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared -- all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that -- pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

  
It was a while before any of them said anything.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." She stood up, glaring at them.

"Now. If you two don't mind, I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea that might get us killed, or worse- expelled." She disappeared into the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Ron stared after her. "She needs to sort out her priorities."

But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something.... What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide -- except perhaps Hogwarts. It looked as though Harry had found out what the thing from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.

 


	9. Halloween

Crabbe and Goyle couldn't believe their eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful.

Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the thing, which Killian had told them was a package, that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

Even Hermione hasn't showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus.

All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Crabbe and Goyle, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

**DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.**

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at five o'clock for your first training session, dinner would be served at six o'clock so I expect you two to finish then._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," Ron grinned at Harry and said, "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand." 

"What would you know about it, Weasley, Malfoy told us you couldn't afford half the handle," Goyle snapped back.

"I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig." Crabbe laughed.

Before Ron could answer, Malfoy himself appeared. "What in Merlin’s name are you guys doing, standing here?" He spots Harry and Ron. "Oh." He stops to look at them for a moment. There was rage in their eyes.

Malfoy sighed. "Crabbe, Goyle. Leave us. I’ll with them myself."

The two boys laughed and left.

Ron and Harry looked annoyed, but now that Malfoy has come they seemed more annoyed.

"Oh don’t look at me like that! I don't know what they have done to you two but just stay away from them, okay? I know it's not your fault."

"Malfoy, how can you stand them as your friends?" Harry asked.

”What?”

Harry continued to look at him with annoyance.

Malfoy sighed and found himself answering, but he didn't know why. "Their fathers are friends with mine, so you know, I don't see why you need to know about my personal friendships."

"Doesn't the famous Draco Malfoy have any other friends? Or does no one else like you? Apart from Killian? You're just a spoilt brat after all." Ron snapped.

Malfoy didn't say anything because it was true, people were either afraid of him or looked up to him, and Killian was the only person who treated him like everyone else.

Harry's rage seemed to settle down. There was a look of sympathy from the boy's emerald eyes. "Sorry, Ron didn't mean that, how about-"

Malfoy was suddenly full of rage and close to tears. "SHUT UP, POTTER! I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY."

He stormed off leaving Harry and Ron befuddled.

"Did you have to say that, Ron?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I never expected him to react like that, I thought he was going to put up one of his acts again."

"Still. I feel bad for him, don't you?" Harry asked.

"Merlin I can't believe I'm saying this." Ron said. "I didn't know he actually didn't have any, I thought Crabbe and Goyle were his friends. I suppose I do feel a bit sorry for him, even Malfoy doesn't deserve that."

They both continued looking at the direction Malfoy went. Harry completely forgot about the broom until Ron reminded him.

"So, what were we doing?"

Harry held up his wrapped broomstick and they smiled and raced off towards their room.

They bumped into McGonagall on the way. They stopped abruptly.

"Ah, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley," she stared down at the package. "I see you've got your broom."

"Yes professor," said Harry. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added.

"Yes I suppose, although I must say his actions aren't the best of motives." McGonagall smiled and continued walking.

Harry and Ron headed upstairs. "Well, it's true," Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team... I guess I've got a reason to thank him."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them.

Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

...

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he'd be learning to play that night. He bolted out of class that evening, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

...

Meanwhile, after Draco had just run off from Harry and Ron, rage filled and teary eyed this morning. He spent the rest of the school day sulking and refusing to talk to anyone, even Killian. After class had ended he rushed back to his room. No one was there, thankfully. He started punching his pillow and threw his blankets in the air, grunting and shouting. "STUPID POTTER AND HIS- ARGH! STUPID FRIENDS! I'LL SHOW HIM WHO NEEDS FRIENDS!" He kept trashing his side of the room when a knock at the door sounded. He expected it to be Crabbe or Goyle. They practically followed him everywhere. "CAN'T YOU TWO JUST PISS OFF?" Draco shouted. He didn't turn around, instead he buried his face in his pillow. He heard footsteps approaching and felt a hand on his shoulder. "I SAID PISS OFF CRA-" he stopped when he turned. It wasn't Crabbe or Goyle. It was Killian. _Of course._

"Hey. What's wrong?" Killian sounded concerned.

Draco didn't shout anymore, he didn't have any energy left in him. "You sound just like Potter, I don't need your pity." He stood up and faced away from Killian. "Now go away."

"Malfoy I'm not pitying you. I just want to see if you're okay, you looked more angry that usual today."

Malfoy sighed. "I want to be alone."

They were silent for a moment but Killian didn't budge.

"Is is normal for me wanting to be alone? Is it normal for me to not have any friends?" Malfoy found himself asking.

"You do have a friend, Draco. Me."

Draco was shocked. Did Killian just call him his friend?

"Do you actually consider me your friend?"

He knew Killian treated him normally but he never thought someone would consider him, especially Killian, best friends with Harry Potter, HIS friend.

"Of course. Draco." He never heard Killian call him by his first name before. He relaxed felt tears forming. He clenched his fists and held back the tears. No, Malfoys don't cry.

He tried to hold back so hard that his hands started to hurt, he felt warm hands untangle his fists and felt arms pull him in for a hug.

"Draco. You can cry if you want, it's not good to let things pile up."

Killian was taller than him so he clung on tight to Killian and buried his face in his chest. He relaxed fully and tears started to fall. He had never cried like this. Never had a situation like this before. But it felt so good to cry.

"Shh. Its okay, Draco. I'm here. Now tell me what's wrong." Killian drew circles on his back and sat them down on his bed.

Draco pulled away and dried his tears. He was really embarrassed now, "Merlin I can't believe I just cried in front of you." _Malfoys aren’t supposed to cry. Crying is for the weak_ , his father would always say.

"I shouldn't have done that." He held his head down.

"What? Cry?"

Draco looked up at Killian, grey eyes met purple ones "Father said crying is for the weak. Malfoys never cry."

Killian pulled him in for another hug and said softly. "I don't know why you would ever believe that. People cry. Not because they are weak. It's because they've been strong for too long."

Draco immediately started tearing up again. He told Killian how people only either looked up to him or were afraid of him, no one was really his true friend apart from Killian.

They remained silent for a while. 

“It’s not just that, isn’t it?” Killian said while patting his back. 

Draco nodded. 

“Is it your father?” 

He nodded again and spoke. “Father always sets everything up for me, he already paved half my life for me, but I don’t want to live in his shadow or become him. I just want to live my own life. But he wouldn’t, even mother couldn’t stop him.” 

Killian could only sigh and hug him tighter.

"Why can't I just be normal? Killian? Why can't I just have normal friends? I tried but I can't."

"Shh. Draco you're perfect just the way you are."

Draco's sobs became louder.

"Shh. It's okay. Shh. It's okay."

”It’s not okay... you don’t understand my father...” 

“Maybe I do.” 

Draco sniffles and look at him. “What?” 

Killian sighed. “My birth parents... espically my father, were the same as your father... Cold... Manipulative... It’s all thanks to my mother that I escaped him and am living with my adoptive parents now.”

”Father wasn’t like this before... but he turned cold, and cruel...” Draco said softly, still crying. “I’m sorry, Killian. About your parents...” 

Killian didn’t say anything, but just held him.

Killian just stayed and cradled Draco until he stopped crying. Draco fell asleep out of exhaustion. Killian slowly settled him down on the bed and smiled. He glanced over Draco's watch, it was five o'clock. School had finished at four and they had been here for a whole hour. Killian wrote Draco a note and headed down to the common room.

...

As five o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. He'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At both ends of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end and they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling -- he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!'

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.  
"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. Each team has seven players, three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper and one Seeker. That's you."

"There are three kinds of balls."said Wood as he took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "Now the Chasers handle the Quaffle and try to put it through one of those three hoops." He said as he pointed at the hoops in the distance.

"The Keeper," He looked at Harry and smirked. "That's me. Defends the hoops. With me so far?"

"I think so," said Harry, who threw he Quaffle back and was determined to remember it all. He looked down at the box and saw two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box. "What are those?"

"You better take this." He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said.

He bent down and freed one of them.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air with a soar, it stopped and then pelted straight at the direction of Harry's face.

"Careful now its coming back." Wood warned.

Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air -- it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"Not bad, Potter." Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "You'd make a fair Beater."

"What was that?" Harry asked, amazed by the destructive ball.

"Bludger. Nasty little buggers."

"Err -- have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand. He remembered what the Weasley twins told him.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers unless they crack my head open."

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers -- I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood then looked at Harry and pointed at him proudly. But you... are a seeker."

"The only thing I want you to worry about," said Wood as he took out a small golden ball that was the size of a walnut and handed it to Harry, "is this, the Golden Snitch."

Harry examined the ball and smiled to himself. "I like this ball."

"Ah you like it now." Wood said with a laugh. "Just wait. It's wicked fast and damm nearly impossible to see."

"What do I do with it?"

"You catch it. Before the other team's seeker. You catch this, the game is over. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages -- I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep." He said with a smirk. "But you catch this, Potter, and we win."

He gave the ball a little tap and gold tiny wings emerged and fluttered, it was so quick that wood quickly lost sight of it but Harry kept following and staring at it, amazed and let out a "Whoa."

Wood managed to catch it back and exhaled "Well, that's it -- any questions?"

Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch. Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After one long hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on. It was also time for dinner.

"That Quidditch cup will have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons. Now let's get back to the Great Hall and join everyone, shall we?"

Harry smiled and followed Wood. He was exhausted and hungry.

...

Draco woke up an hour later at six. He sat up and glanced over at his bedside table, there was a note written by Killian.

_Draco,_

_I didn't want to wake you because you fell asleep, I'll be waiting for you in the common room at six for dinner. If you don't feel like going to dinner, I'll go get some from the Great Hall and you can eat in your room in peace. I'll be waiting down in the common room, don't worry about being late. I'm here if you need anything._

_Killian_

Draco found himself smiling, he was so thankful. This is what having a real friend feels like. He thought, he happily got ready and went down to meet Killian in the common room, the two went to dinner and chatted happily for the rest of the meal.

...

On Halloween morning Harry and Ron woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). They were sharing a class with the Slytherins. Draco and Killian have paired up. And Crabbe and Goyle were in a pair seated behind Killian, they looked weirdly jealous of him.

Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said, 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a  
buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

  
" _Wingardium Leviosa_!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill. He kept waving his wand vigorously.

"Stop stop stop! You're going to take someone's eye out" Hermione snapped and put a hand in front of Ron to stop his movements. "And besides, you're saying it wrong,"

"It's _Levi-O-sa_ not _Levio-SA_." Hermione said again.

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled. "Go on, go on."

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it splendidly!"

Seamus saw Hermione and was getting impatient he shouted " _Wingard Leviosa_!" And swung his wand like an axe. Suddenly a loud explosion sounded and the feather in front of Harry went up in smoke, Seamus's face was covered in smoke and dust, shocked and mortified at what he just did. Harry stared at the now black feather. "I think we're going to need another feather here, professor."

...

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. He was waking back to their rooms with Killian and Harry and was just telling Killian about the class. "It's Levi-O-sa not Levio-SA." He mimicked Hermione. "It's no wonder no one can stand her, she's a nightmare, honestly. " He said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor.

Someone knocked into Ron as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face -- and was startled to see that she was in tears.

“Ron!” Killian practically glared at him.

"I think she heard you..." Harry said awkwardly.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends." 

Killian nudged him with his elbow and frowned. “That’s why you’ll never get a girlfriend.” 

...

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face.

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. People were screaming and shouting. People rushed out of their seats and ran for the door. Dumbledore stood up gracefully at his table and shouted. "SILENCE." The hall immediately went fully quiet and everyone stood still. "Everyone would please, not panic." He waited till everyone was settled down.

"Prefects," he continued, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately, as for Slytherin house, please go to the old east wing, where the guest rooms lie!" He turned to the teachers.

"Teachers, will follow me to the dungeons."

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

The Slytherins were being led away by the Slytherin prefect as well, Draco followed but glanced back to find Killian was walking towards the other direction of the hall. Where is he going? He thought. His curiosity took the best of him and he decided to follow Killian down, remaining out of sight as he followed Killian's footsteps.

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron.

Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll." Ron bit his lip as they dashed towards the long hallways down to the girls' bathroom.

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Ron held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed -- at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them.

"No time to worry about Snape now."

They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Good idea," said Ron nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

"Yes!"

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop -- a high, petrified scream -- and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the girls' bathroom!" Harry gasped.

"Hermione!" they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic, it was jammed.

"No! Not now!" Ron shouted, panicking.

"Use the unlocking spell!" Harry shouted.

"I don't know it!" Ron was even more terrified now.

"Out of the way!" Ron and Harry stepped back as Malfoy came swooping in. " _Alohomora_!" The lock snapped open and they entered the bathroom. 

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. "Help me!" She shrieked and screamed. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went. She went into the stalls but the troll slashed his club and pieces of wood went flying. "Hermione! Move!" Harry shouted. Hermione crouched down with pieces of wood still on her, she slowly crawled out of the cubical.

"Confuse it!" Malfoy said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.  
The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Hey, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it.

The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard another yell "Over here! You piece of filth!" Malfoy shouted. The troll paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron and Malfoy instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door. The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Malfoy and Ron, they was nearest and they had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped -- it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club. "Do something!!" Harry shouted "Anything!"

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand -- not knowing what he was going to do he glanced over to Hermione who was hiding underneath the sink. "Swish and Flick!"

Ron turned to the troll. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, floating in mid-air. The troll was left confused and was about to reach for it again, but then Malfoy pointed his wand at the club and shouted.

" _Finite Incantartum_!"

The club turned and fell, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it -- dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry.

"It's probably just knocked out." said Malfoy.

Harry bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy grey glue.

"Ugh -- troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

"Thanks Malfoy." Harry said.

"Yeah, Blimey we could've died." Ron said panting.

Malfoy ignored him but there was a faint smile. "I don't think it could have been that bad."

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart, and the person they least expected entered after the teachers, Killian.

Snape bent over the troll. Killian rushed over to give Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco each a hug. He looked worried and was asking if they were okay. Draco looked mad at Killian but Harry's gaze was on Professor McGonagall. She was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry's mind.

"Oh my goodness." said Professor McGonagall, she looked at the troll then at the boys, her face was full of relief, but that was quickly replaced with rage and cold fury in her voice. "What on earth were you thinking of?"

Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air.

"You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Harry slowly looked over at Snape, he noticed that his leg was bleeding and was slashed, he looked up and Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look then did the same for Draco. They both looked at the floor. Harry wished Ron would put his wand down.

"Please professor, at least let them explain." Killian said.

The professor hesitated but nodded and looked at the four of them. "Explain yourselves, all of you."

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron and Malfoy knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them. Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Be that as it may, it was an extremely foolish thing to do." Professor McGonagall said, staring at the three of them.

"I would have expected more rational behaviour on your part, and am very disappointed in you, Miss Granger. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor," said Professor McGonagall. She stopped to catch her breath. "For your serious lack of judgement."

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Ron and Draco.  
"As for you three gentlemen." She stopped again, and looked at the unconscious troll. "I just hope you realise how fortunate you are. Not many first year students could take on a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale."

"Five points..." Harry, Ron and Draco prepared for the worse, this was it. They were going to lose more points and become public humiliation for Gryffindor and Slytherin. But McGonagall continued. "Will be awarded, to each of you... Sigh... For sheer dumb luck."

Harry and Ron smiled at each other and Draco gave them a small smirk. Killian was smiling at McGonagall now.

McGonagall turned to Killian. "Now Mr Charming, May you please lead the students back to their respective dormitories. You may go."

Killian lead them out as they hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled. "

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Pig snout," they said, the three Gryffindors waved Killian goodbye before they entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause.

Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

...

Back outside the tower Killian had just dropped them off in the Gryffindor common room. He turned to Draco who was still visibly upset with him.

"What were you doing in there with the three of them? I thought you followed the house." Killian asked.

"What was I doing? Seems to me what were YOU doing? Are you out of your mind? Wandering the halls like an idiot when a troll's loose!" Draco demanded.

Killian sighed and started walking. "Come, I'll tell you on the way." Draco grunted and followed him.

"I knew about Hermione." Killian said.

"You did?" Draco said, surprised.

"Yes, I overheard some girls saying that she was crying in the girls' bathroom. I was going to go the girls' bathroom to take her back to the Gryffindor common room but the troll was blocking the hallway to the bathroom, I had to make a whole detour. Then I found McGonagall and told them Hermione Granger was in the girls' bathroom. We then heard a loud scream and hurried down to the girls' bathroom. Snape and Qurriell  joined us on the way but by the time we got there..."

"The troll was defeated..." Malfoy said nodding.

"Thanks to you guys. And speaking of which how did you end up in the bathroom anyways? I thought you were following me."

"Well, I tried to, but you were so quick I couldn't even catch up. I started heading back to join the others when I heard a loud scream so I rushed towards the scream and then Potter and Ron were struggling to open the door where the scream was coming from. So I helped them unlock the door and- well you know the rest." Draco said quickly, so quickly that he started breathing heavily.

"Whoa there, slow down." Killian laughed but then his faced turned serious. "But next time a situation like this happens don't go following me okay? I don't want you to get hurt or in trouble, it's like what McGonagall said, not many first years could take on a fully grown mountain troll and survive."

Draco sighed. "Fine, but next time just don't be so reckless, you could've gotten hurt as well, just stating a fact."

Killian smiled cheekily. "Aww. Draco Malfoy does care."

"What? No! I mean I didn't... I just..." Draco's face was red with embarrassment. "Argh!" He stormed off and walked faster.

Killian just laughed and ran with Draco back to join the Slytherins.


	10. Quidditch

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: _Gryffindor versus Slytherin_ , and from certain point of view _Harry versus Killian_ , he was eager to see what his friend is capable of. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. 

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. 

They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry remembered the Professor had injured his leg on the night of the troll's escape. Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

Thankfully, Killian arrived just in time, with a book of his own. "Oh is that right professor? Does that mean Slytherin gets five points taken off too?" He asked innocently. 

The professor turned around and scowled. "I suppose I could turn a blind eye... for once. I will still be taking the books, don't be mistaken, but no points will be deducted from any houses. But do remember the rules Mr. Potter, I won't be so tolerant next time."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly. "Thank you for that Killian."

Killian smiled and walked away.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go to the library, Killian was studying on one of the tables so they decided to join him. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry felt restless. He wanted _Quidditch Through the Ages_ back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told them he was going to ask Snape if he could have it back.

"Better you than me," the four of them said together, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked.

_There was no answer._

He knocked again.

 _Nothing_.

Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside -- and a horrible scene met his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but -- "POTTER!"  
Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped.

"I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined them.

"What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly.

"He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him -- he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No -- he wouldn't, she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe." 

"Exactly, Snape is very loyal to Dumbledore and would never do such a thing." Killian added.

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "And he's your head of house Killian, of course you'd be on his side.I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

...

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Ron was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind -- he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours -- but the expression on Snape's face when Harry had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget. The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheer ful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Killian, who had just walked over with a plate of sausages, bacon, hash browns and baked beans.

"Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team, believe me, I know."

"Thanks, Killian," said Harry as he took the plate of food and started eating.

Harry watched as Killian walked back to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Malfoy. Malfoy was glaring at Potter, he looked particularly jealous. Harry just shrugged and continued eating. 

...

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that  
the paint flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry.

"We were on the team last year." George finished.

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers. He saw Killian walking out in his quidditch gear and he smiled at him. Killian smiled back, but then it was gone and his face turned serious.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year.

Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fourteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle -- that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead -- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses -- GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Hagrid!" Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ron. "Harry hasn't had much to do yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."

When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Harry saw it. But then a white streak was following the Snitch. Killian, who was of course the seeker for Slytherin had already seen it. 

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold, and caught up beside Killian.

Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was as fast as Killian -- he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - - he put on an extra spurt of speed -- WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below -- Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life. He spotted Killian stopping and frowning at Marcus, but Marcus just gave him a dirty look.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. "So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating...”

"Jordan, I'm warning you --"growled Professor McGonagall.

 

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He'd never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts -- he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out -- and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. 

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet -- passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose -- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score -- A no..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have...."

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand."

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron, gray-faced. "I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape -- look."

Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath.

"He's doing something -- jinxing the broom," said Hermione. "What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Killian flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto his broom, but it was no good -- every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. He dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Killian wasn't supposed to be helping the opposing team but he didn't care at that moment. Harry, his best friend's life was in danger.

Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing. "Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered desperately. 

Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered.

" _Lacarnum Inflamarae!_ "

Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes. 

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row -- Snape would never know what had happened.

It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom. Killian sighed, relieved and smiled at Harry and took off again.

"Neville, you can look!" Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes.

Harry spotted the snitch again and was speeding toward the ground, he followed the snitch and proceeded to stand up on his broom, he reached his arm out, he was just a mere centimetre away as he took another step, the broom lost balance and he tumbled onto the ground. He got up after a moment but when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick-- he hit the field on all fours -- and coughed.

"Looks like he's going to be sick." Hagrid said, looking into his binoculars.

But then Harry coughed again and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, he was smiling and saw Killian give him the thumbs up.

Madam Hooch blows the whistle. "GRYFFINDOR WINS!" The game was over.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results -- Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Everyone was still cheering, and the Slytherins all sucked and stared at him. Malfoy was especially cross, Killian was the only one who seemed to smile.

...

  
Later that night, he was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ron, Killian and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

"Do you three honestly hate him that much?" Killian sighed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell them. Harry decided on the truth.

"I found out something about him," he told them. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?" Killian asked. 

"That thing has a name?" Hermione snapped. “It’s anything but fluffy!” 

"Yeah -- he's mine -- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year -- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the..." Hagrid paused.

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.  
The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"Was that him? Was he the one playing tricks on Harry's broom?" Killian was getting angry now.

"Yes! I know a jinx when I see one, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!" Hermione said again.

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel --"

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

...

That night, Killian was feeling rather happy for some reason, despite losing the quidditch match, he was still proud of Harry, his best friend for being such a talented kid. He was smiling, they had agreed to have quidditch practices together every other day now. He was just returning to his room from Hagrid's house. He went down to the dungeons to the common room and Draco greeted him, sitting in front of the fire.

"Hello there. Nice trip to Hagrid's?" He sounded rather moody.

"Yeah, just hung out with Hermione, Harry and Ron. Nothing much."

"Oh." Draco stopped for a bit. "Still can't believe we lost quidditch because of blasted Potter."

"Beginner's luck I guess. But he does have his father's skills."

"You did pretty well today I suppose, though it's ridiculous we lost, and Potter was disgusting, the snitch in his mouth and all that. Yuck! Am I right?"

"Yeah, kinda I guess.” He grabbed a glass of juice on the table and sat down next to him. “He was pretty amazing though."

Ignoring the comment, Draco scoffed and changed the subject. "I need help with my potions homework. Can you help me tomorrow after school in the library?"

“But you’re the best in class apart from Hermione. You sure you need help?”

Truth be told. All Draco wanted to do was to spend time with Killian. Ever since the incident on Halloween he had felt more comfortable being with him.

“Yeah I do. So can you help?”

"Sorry I got quidditch practise with Harry." Killian replied.

"The day after?"

"Sorry Draco, I agreed to have a long game of wizard's chess with Ron, I can do-"

"It's fine." Draco sounded angry now. He got up and walked towards their room. "Going to bed. Night."

Before Killian could reply, Draco had closed the door.


	11. The Mirror of Erised

Christmas was coming. Harry was having such a good time with his friends, Harry and Killian practiced quidditch on a daily basis now, and Ron and Hermione would sometimes play games with them after school. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again. Only Killian's Raven soared across the snow with no difficulties, people have been using her as a means for delivering letters and it was really starting to annoy Killian. No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Ever since the quidditch match, Harry had been spending more time with Killian, they practiced on the field every day and would often eat dinner, lunch and breakfast together. Harry would notice glares shot from Malfoy across the Great Hall. Not only was he jealous of Killian and Harry's friendship, but he was also disgusted that the Slytherins had lost.

Killian had tried talking to him, but Malfoy would ignore him and tell him to _"Talk to Potter._ "

_Yeah, totally jealous._

Harry had even considered becoming Malfoy's friend on Halloween, after the incident with the troll. He did, after all help them. But that Malfoy was gone and what's left was the cold Malfoy Harry had met back in the train carriage. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family. 

 _If only you knew,_ Harry thought at Malfoy.

It was true that Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie. Killian's family were part of the Ministry and had business to attend to. They would take Killian out a few days during the holidays but Killian would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. The rest of the Slytherins were going home, so in order for Killian not to feel lonely, McGonagall has permitted Killian to move in with Ron and Harry for the time being.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large Christmas tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Draco's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose -- that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron had had enough of Malfoy's mood swings, they seemed to be making progress back that day from Halloween, but since the Quidditch match, everything has gone downhill. He was about to dive at Draco when a loud cold shout sounded, stopping him.

"DRACO! RONALD! ENOUGH!"

It was Killian.

"Draco, you apologise to Ron right now." Killian said in a stone cold voice.

"Apologise? I won't stoop THAT low." Draco snapped back.

Killian latched forward and grabbed Draco by the shirt collar. "Don't play me for a fool, Malfoy. I know exactly why you're doing this and frankly it's ridiculous, you're being a spoilt little brat."

"Protecting Weasley now, are we? If you love your Gryffindors so much then why don't you go and join them, we don't need you in Slytherin anyway."

Killian let him go, his face wore disappointment now. "I don't know why I ever wanted to be your friend." He turned and walked away.

Draco stood in the hall, he stood still for a full minute, he regretted his outburst immediately. He was so jealous of Harry, Killian and Ron's friendship he only thought about nobody but himself. And now, his only friend, Killian, was gone. Malfoy slowly started walking away, head down and walked out of sight.

"I thought we were on good terms after that night with the troll," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "turns out I was wrong. But still, I've never seen Killian this mad before."

"Yeah, I feel weirdly sorry for Malfoy," said Harry, "He was just jealous of our friendship I guess. But he's taking this too far this time."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the two of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to -the Great Hall, where Hermione, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations. Hermione spotted them and ran over to join them.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree -- put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me -Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library, Killian's already in there waiting."

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here -- I've told yeh -- drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere -- just give us a hint -- I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a  
book. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron and Killian strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random.

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after A, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks.

  
Five minutes later, Killian, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

After they finished lunch, Harry and Ron stayed behind in the great hall for a game of wizard's chess, while Killian went back to move his things from the Slytherin dormitory to the Gryffindor dormitory. Hermione had just came down with her bags to say goodbye.

Wizard's chess was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family -- in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

"Knight to E4." Harry spoke.

The chess piece moved.

Ron smiled. "Queen to E4."

The queen slowly moved toward the spot then destroyed the knight into two pieces. Hermione gasped as Ron took the split pieces off the board.

"That's totally barbaric!"

"That's wizards chess." He smirked "Huh. I see you've packed."

"See you haven't."

"Change of plans, my parents are going to visit my brother Charlie in Romania, I'm staying for the holidays."

"Good. You can help Killian and Harry then. They're going to go to the library to search for more information on Nicholas Flamel."

"We've looked a hundred times!"

Hermione leant down and whispered to them."Not in the restricted section." She smiled innocently. "Happy Christmas." And with that, she was off.

Ron stared at Harry, shaking his head. "I think we had a bad influence on her."

...

Once the holidays had started, Killian, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork -- bread, English muffins, marshmallows -- and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about about even if they wouldn't work. But Killian frowned every time his name came up, so they didn't talk about Malfoy as much.

Harry also played a lot of wizard's chess. He played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all.

When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas Harry!" Killian smiled. He was already awake and was reading a book on his bed. Ron was now waking up with a yawn. "Ah, you're waking up! Merry Christmas Ron!"

"Merry Christmas Harry, Merry Christmas Killian" said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe. 

"You, too Ron and Killian," said Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's.

"Did the Dursley's really never gave you anything for Christmas?!" Killian said, getting out of bed and stretching.

Harry shook his head. "Only old clothes and sometimes only a few coins."

Killian sighed but a smile returned to his face. "Let's forget about them, shall we? There are some presents in need of unwrapping." He pointed to Harry's pile.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it -- it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

_We received your message and enclose your Christmas present._

_From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia._

Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

"Weird!" he said, "look at that shape! This is money?"

"You can keep it," said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle -- so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and -- oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley jumper." He glanced over at Killian's presents and recognised one of them. "She made one for you too."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted jumper in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a jumper," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"Look, mine's purple with a silver 'K'. Please thank her for me, Ron." Killian said as he put on his jumper.

"Yeah. That's really nice of her," said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

His next present also contained candy -- a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

Killian got him and Ron a really sweet photo of the three of them with Hermione. It was moving and they were laughing and smiling in it.

Harry and Ron both gave Killian a warm hug. "That's amazing, how did you get it to move?"

"Magic? Duh!"

The three of them had a massive laughing fit, it lasted for five minutes until they continued unwrapping the remaining presents.

There was only one parcel left. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it. He read the note attached to it.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It it time that it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

"What is it," he asked as Harry pulled the present out. "It's some sort of cloak."

"Let's see then. Try it on."

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. Harry looked down and realised he couldn't see his body.

"My body's gone!"

"I know what that is! That's an invisibility cloak!" Ron said excitedly.

"They're really rare. Wonder who gave it to you." Killian said and looked at the note attached to the present.

"There was no name. It just said, Use it well." Harry looked at the note again. 

Killian smiled and muttered something under his breath after he looked at the note again.

"Do you know who gave this to me?" 

Killiam just gave him a smile and put his finger against his lip.

Harry and Ron just looked at each other and back at Killian. They shrugged and burst into a fit of giggles.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce -- and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Ron nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided.

...

Harry, Killian and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much. Killian tried but lost as well, although it was a really close game.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: _the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it._

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Killian was reading a book fully focused on the paper pages. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it.

His father's... this had been his father's. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.

He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

_Use it well._

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Harry wanted to use it, now, alone. He told Killian and he nodded and told him to be careful.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Step ping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence -- the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside -- stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it.

He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears. He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been  
so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them." Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into him -- the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. 

That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom, but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top:

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it. He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed -- for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror. There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder -- but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air -- she and the others existed only in the mirror.

 _She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes -- her eyes are just like mine_ , Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection. Then he the dreams he had of a woman saying " _Always_ " with bright green eyes. She looked exactly like the woman in the mirror.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. But then, he saw a young boy, he looked like Killian but looked a bit older, and his eyes were blue-green and his hair was a brown blonde instead of ashen, this must be his brother. The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn't stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room.

...

"You could have woken me up," said Ron, crossly.

"You were snoring." Killian said.

Ron ignored him.

They had breakfast in bed that morning as they were too lazy to go to the Great Hall.

"You two can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your mom and dad." Ron said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show me your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," said Ron. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though."

Killian nudged Harry with his elbow when he noticed he hasn't touched his food. "Harry, have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harry couldn't eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

"Are you all right?" asked Killian as he put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, you look odd." Ron said.

...

What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Killian and Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry's route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," said Ron. "Let's forget it and go back."

"No!" Harry hissed. I know it's here somewhere."

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor. "It's here -- just here -- yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror.

There they were. His mother and father beamed and his brother waved at the sight of him. "See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them...."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head boy!"

"What?"

"I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too."

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead -- let me have another look --" Harry was starting to raise his voice.

"Shush! Both of you!" Killian whispered. "They might hear us!"

Harry and Ron hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking.

"Sorry." They both said.

"Now it's my turn." Killian said and he walked up to the mirror.

He stood there in silence for two whole minutes, when he turned around, tears were on his cheeks and he looked down on towards the ground as he fell to his knees. Harry rushed over and pulled him in for a hug while Ron patted his back, unsure of what to do. 

“Uh... there, there.” Ron tried to comfort him.

Harry looked at him and smacked his forehead lightly, before sighing and turning back to Killian. 

Killian's face was stone and expressionless, but his tears were falling rapidly.

"Killian? What's wrong? What did you see?" Harry asked, still hugging him.

Killian wasn't sobbing, but tears were still falling, he looked up to Hary and stared in silence for a few seconds before he said calmly.

"The impossible." He pulled away, stood up and dried his tears. "Let's go before someone finds us."

Harry and Ron both nodded and the three of them put on the cloak and headed back to their dorm.

...

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning. Killian was still asleep.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No... you go..."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it, did you see Killian's reaction? He never ever cries-- and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go."

...

But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron or Killian wasn't going to stop him. That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.

And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and his brother nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all. Except --

"So -- back again, Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn't noticed him.

" -- I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It -- well -- it shows me my family --"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know --?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"If that's true professor, why was Killian crying when the mirror showed him what he wanted? Do you know what he saw?"

The Headmaster sighed. "That I do, but I think it is for your best interest that what he saw remains currently unknown. All I can say that what he saw was impossible, and what he saw made him happy for a moment, but then brought back horrible memories."

Harry immediately felt like he wanted to rush back up and give Killian a hug.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up.

"Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled.

"You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question. He glanced over at Killian, who was sleeping soundly, he didn't know what came over him, but he couldn't sleep, he woke Killian and told him he had a nightmare, to which Killian walked over to Harry's bed, and sat there and soothed him back to sleep slowly. Harry gave him a tight hug, wrapping his hands around Killian's waist, it was an awkward position, he was lying down and Killian was sitting up, Killian was now stroking his hair and telling him to sleep.

"Killian?"

"Hm?"

"I saw someone else in the mirror."

"Who was it? I thought you only saw your parents."

"I saw my brother."

"You... your brother?"

"Yeah."

"Oh...What did he look like?"

"He looked like you, but he was older and had blue eyes, his hair was a brown blonde."

Killian didn't say anything.

Silence drifted off to what seemed like forever until Killian whispered softly in Harry's ear.

"Harry... I-"

But that's all Harry heard as he slowly drifted off to sleep without realising it. The next morning, he had forgotten about it.


	12. Nicholas Flamel

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told him and Killian about these dreams.

Killian seemed to be driven mad as well, ever since Harry had took him to the mirror, whatever he had seen had made him talk less and he was more distant, but he and Harry would have their one on ones every night when Ron was asleep, about Harry's family, quidditch, and sometimes when Killian was asked about his family, he would always evade the question.

Harry gave him a long hug one time because he was crying. He had never seen Killian cry before. Whatever he has seen that night must have been too traumatic for him.

"Killian you can tell me anything, you’re my best friend." Harry said, hugging him. "What did you see in the mirror?"

Killian just shakes his head again and repeats "The impossible. But I hate that I'm still hoping."

Harry just stayed quiet for the rest of the night.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a li- brary book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, Killian moved back to the Slytherin dorms and they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry and Killian had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years, and it's going to be hard since Killian is as good as Harry, if not, even better. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news.

“Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, thought Harry, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch....

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something both Harry and Ron thought was very good for her while Killian found it quite amusing.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen --" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?"

Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron.

"Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle" said Neville shakily. "I met them outside the library. They said they’d been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville.

"Report them!" Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"Wait Neville," Harry started. "Tell Killian. He'll know how to deal with Malfoy." Neville hesitantly nodded.

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of them," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it?"

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I'll write Killian an owl and then I think I'll go to bed.... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever-"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here -- listen to this: _'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, and for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'_!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly.

"I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily.

Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry and Ron.

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look -- read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read: _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished.

"The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher’s Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"Sone of it doesn’t make sense though." said Ron. "If all Snape wants is the Philosopher’s Stone, why would he attack you during the quidditch match?"

...

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harry and Ron were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher’s Stone if they had one.

As the quidditch match drew nearer, however, Harry became more and more nervous, whatever he told Ron, Killian and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Snape was so horrible to Harry. Could Snape possibly know they'd found out about the Philosopher’s Stone? Harry didn't see how he could -- yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Harry knew, when they wished him good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Killian, Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see him alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as he pulled on his Quidditch robes and picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Harry know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harry.

"Now, don't forget, it's _Locomotor Mortis_ ," Hermione muttered as Ron slipped his wand up his sleeve.

"I know," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harry aside.

  
"Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even -- blimey -- Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.  
Harry could have laughed out loud with relief He was safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try to hurt him if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ron noticed, too.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look -they're off- Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all.

"It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money -- you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," he stammered.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, "You tell him, Neville."

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something."

Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harry.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy -- one more word,"

"Ron!" said Hermione suddenly, "Harry --"

"What? Where?"

Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione stood up, her crossed fingers in her mouth, as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

"You're in luck, Weasley, Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Malfoy.

Ron snapped. Before Malfoy knew what was happening, Ron was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground. Neville hesitated, then clambered over the back of his seat to help.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harry sped straight at Snape -- she didn't even notice Malfoy and Ron rolling around under her seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Just then, Ron and Malfoy were both grabbed on the ends of their collar, by Killian who had just arrived, a few other Gryffindors held back Goyle and Crabbe.

"Stop this none sense now!"

Ron's face was red with fury but Draco looked red with embarrassed the moment he looked at Killian.

Killian looked at Ron and sighed. “Merlin, you guys are like animals.”

Killian swept his stone cold stare at Draco. "Stay away from them, Malfoy, they are my friends." He then pushed Draco ever so slightly and Malfoy staggered back to regain his steps.

Draco frowned for a second then rage took over him as he spat out quietly to himself. "So was I."

Crabbe and Goyle leapt forward to defend Draco, but then Killian whipped his wand out and cast the Leg-Locker Curse on both of them, their legs snapped shut as they lost their balanced and fell to the ground.

Killian returned his gaze to Draco, and simply shook his head. Draco's once mischievous smirk was now replaced by rage, guilt and embarrassment. Draco slowly walked away, with Crabbe and Goyle following him while jumping like frogs.

Killian turned to Neville. "I got your letter. I'm sorry to say I'm not necessarily on the best of terms with Malfoy right now, but I'll make sure he doesn't pester you as much."

Neville nodded quietly and whispered a small thank you.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches -- the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.  
The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

"Ron! Killian! The game's over! Harry's won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it -- the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped -- then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping busy...excellent..."

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He'd really done something to be proud of now -- no one could say he was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift him onto their shoulders; Killian, Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry had reached the shed. He leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. He'd done it, he'd shown Snape....

And speaking of Snape...

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk.

Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner -- what was going on?

Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a run. He followed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I --"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."  
An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "-- your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't --"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! Killian even cast the Leg-Sticking hex on them!- talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's go get Killian and find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this...."

He made sure Peeves the Poltergeist wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then he told them what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocuss-- I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through --"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

Killian hasn't said anything yet. His head was deep in thought.

He finally spoke. "This isn't right. It's too obvious for it to be Snape."

"How is it too obvious? And who else could it be?"

"I don't know. But it's just a thought." Killian shook his head. "Never mind, forget about it."


	13. Nobet the Norwegian Ridgeback

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he'd cracked yet.

Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter. Killian however was starting to defending Snape and was sure he wasn't the one.

Hermione, had more on her mind than the Philosopher's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and colorcoding all her notes. Harry, Killian and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her.

"Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me...."

It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work, Killian would often join them, but was already caught up with his revision and often helped Hermione with hers.

...

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window.

It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who was looking up " _Dittany_ " in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?"

He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St --"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Killian, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy --"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh --"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. "Killian, come help me."

They came back a minute later with a pile of books in their arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" Killian whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide._ "

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"So what on earths Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

...

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed.

Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused.

"So -- yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at him.

"Of course I can't, he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It Was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling.

"We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Killian went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Killian and Hermione. Killian and Hermione both gave each other a knowing smirk.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor McGonagall --" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell -- an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah -- yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as he was. Harry wasn't sure about Killian though, after all, he had a mind of his own.

If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything -- except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others.

"Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling." Hermione complained

"Can't, Hermione, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid -- what's that?" Harry pointed.

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "Er..."

"Blimey. Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"No you didn't." Killian laughed, he thought it was a joke.

Hagrid gave him a look of guilt.

Killian's face turned into a shocked frown and his tone turned serious. "No you didn't."

Hagrid shrugged and had a face full of guilt.

...

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words:

_It's hatching._

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing --"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Harry didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all. Killian was behind Malfoy and gave them a shook of his head as if telling them to shut up.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other three during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

  
"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'!”

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't. "Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

“Oh Hagrid, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” Killian said as he put he head into his hands.

So now they had something else to worry about: _what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut._

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. Hermione wanted to make one for Killian as well but he politely refused, for over a hundred times. It was driving them nuts.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Killian, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face -- he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains -- it's a kid -- he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him. Malfoy had seen the dragon.

"It's Malfoy." Harry said.

"Crapbaskets." Killian grunted and walked out. "I'll deal with him."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked again.

"Yeah. No promises though." He continued walking and disappeared put of sight.

...

Back in the Slytherin common room, nobody was there except Malfoy, who was waiting in the common room for Killian to return.

The door flung open.

"Ah, Charming. Have fun with your Gryffindor friends? How is the great oaf?"

Killian stormed up to him and stood in front of him. Whispering in a deadly, cold, voice. "I dare you." He walked past Malfoy and started to make his way up the dorm.

"Oh I think I'll take that challenge. After all, isn't it illegal?"

Killian stopped but didn't turn around. "I suggest you keep quiet Malfoy. It's hard to imagine that you were actually tolerable a while ago. I suppose that person is gone. And all that's left is the spoiled little brat I met in Diagon Alley. I'm warning you, don't you dare hurt my friends, or else I won't hesitate."

"To do what? Hit me? Hex me? If you even dare touch me, father will hear about that."

"I'll make sure he will. Because it's going to hurt, a lot."

Malfoy sniggered as Killian disappeared upstairs. Ignoring what he just said. But then, no one has ever threatened him quite like that before. And even he found himself shaking slightly.

...

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Ron, and Hermione very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him while Killian tried to deal with Malfoy.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die... I've decided to call him Norbert. He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I -- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie," he said.

"Merlin, don't tell me you're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No -- Charlie -- your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send -an owl to Charlie to ask him.

...

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione and Harry sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It tried to bite me!" he said. "I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it tried to bite me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The three of them put their heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_  
Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,  
Charlie_

They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult -- I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert -- and Malfoy.

The next day after school, Harry returned to his room to find Ron walking around the room looking mad. He looked at Harry when he came in

"It's Malfoy," he whispered, "He kept threatening to tell McGonagall what really we're hiding, he even stole my book as a joke -- I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

Harry and Hermione tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday, and don't worry, Killian won't let him tell anyone." said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no -- I've just remembered -- Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione.

"We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. Let's hope Killian stops him. I'll send Killian an owl and tell him to stay and stop Malfoy. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

...

On Saturday night, they found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage -- nothin' I can't handle."

When they told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot -- jus' playin' -- he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry and Hermione walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harry as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. UP another staircase, then another -- even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared. It was Flich. He was followed closely by Mrs. Norris. "I don't smell anyone. Are you sure you're smelling something?"

They stayed still as statues as the three waited for them to pass. After what seemed like forever, they left.

They went up to the top of the tower and they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Ron, Harry and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Ron, Harry and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

"Send my regards to my brother." Ron said before they left.

At last, Norbert was going... going... gone. They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as  
their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon, no more problems, Malfoy isn't here -- what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Malfoy's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness, smirking. Behind him emerged Professor McGonagall and Killian, who was looking at Malfoy with a deadly, cold look.

"Well, well, well," she whispered and shook her head, "we are in trouble." They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.


	14. The Forbidden Forest

Professor McGonagall took them down to her study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover- up stories chased each other around Harry's brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes.

Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

The professor lead them into her study before shutting the door and they all stood in front of her desk as she sat down behind it. Malfoy was crossing his arms with a proud smirk on his face. Killian was standing far away from him, still silent with a cold expressionless face.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Malfoy here says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. Nobody said anything.

"Nothing. I repeat, Nothing," said Professor McGonagall. "Gives a student the right to walk around the school at night! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. Mr Weasley, I thought you would be at least better than your twin brothers. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. Each, will receive detentions -- and fifty points will be taken from the four of you."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped -- they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points, each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

Draco's smirk seemed to disappear for a second. "Excuse me professor." He said as he stepped up to her table. "Perhaps I heard you wrong, I heard you say 'the four of us'."

"No, you heard me correctly Mr. Malfoy." She looked at him unimpressed. "As honourable as your actions may seem. It it no reason to wander off out of bed at one in the morning."

Draco frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't find the right words. He backed away from the Professor's table and stood there with his arms crossed.

Hermione, Harry and Ron all smiled slightly, at least something good came out of this.

"As for you, Mr. Charming. I could say the same for you, although I do understand that you did try your best to stop Mr. Malfoy I simply cannot overlook this and turn a blind eye."

Killian nodded. "I understand, Professor."

"Twenty points will be taken from Slytherin, Mr Charming."

She sighed and waved her hand. "Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever make up for this? They were silent while walking back. They were roaming the empty halls with nobody in sight.

Suddenly, Killian, who was walking in front rushed back to Malfoy and punched him across the face, sending him flying backwards with a shout. Hermione let out a shocked scream. Harry gasped and Ron was speechless. Killian's face looked full of regret for a second but then turned away and continued walking as if nothing happened. They stood there for a whole minute with Malfoy still on the floor, Killian was already out of sight and Malfoy was on the floor covering his cheek with his hand, tears silently falling. Harry, Hermione and Ron continued to stand there, completely floored over what just happened, they didn't know what to do. Malfoy slowly got up and ran back to the Slytherin dorms without another word, hand still on his cheek. The remaining three continued their way up to the Gryffindor dorms, refusing to comment on what just happened.

...

Harry didn't sleep all night. He could hear Ron's frustrated grunts for what seemed like hours. Harry couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. He knew Ron, like himself, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: _Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years._

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!" But shockingly, Malfoy wasn't one of them.

Only Killian and Ron stood by him.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Gryffindors sre better people than Slytherins and they already forgave me and...Malfoy, for those house points."

"Yeah! Exactly! Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them, they'll forgive us eventually."

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well -- no," Ron admitted.

"And you Slytherins only lost seventy points. That's nothing compared to us."

Killian sighed and ruffled Harry’s hair. "Don't worry, you'll be fine, you still have me, Ron and Hermione. So don't you worry."

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren't his business from now on. He'd had it with sneaking around and spying. He felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him " _the Seeker_."

Hermione and Ron were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence.

Harry was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying he had to do kept his mind off his misery. He sometimes lets Killian help him, and they often have long hugs and silent but peaceful study sessions. But Harry usually studied by himself.

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern him was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on his own one afternoon, he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell's voice.

"No -- no -- not again, please --"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer. "All right -- all right --" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harry didn't think Quirrell had even noticed him. He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harry was halfway toward it before he remembered what he'd promised himself about not meddling.

All the same, he'd have gambled twelve Philosopher's Stones that Snape had just left the room, and from what Harry had just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step -- Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.

Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy, and Killian was reading a book on Muggles called "Muggle Studies". Harry told them what he'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron.

"If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell --"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Killian.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Hermione, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I'm sure there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog."

"So what do we do, Harry?" Ron asked again.

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Killian answered before Harry could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor -- who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione and Killian both looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around --"

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

...

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Ron at the breakfast table.

They were all the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

Professor McGonagall Harry had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the furor over the points they'd lost. He half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word.

Like Harry, she felt they deserved what they'd got.

At eleven o'clock that night, the three went down to the entrance hall with Killian, who was waiting outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. Filch was already there -- and so was Malfoy. Harry had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too. His right cheek was red as a tomato. Harry remembered the events from that night and shuddered at the thought.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them.

They marched off across the dark grounds. Harry wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Harry's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. His relief must have showed in his -face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy -- it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Ron let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" Malfoy repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "I thought that was a joke! We can't go in there at night -- there's all sorts of things in there -- werewolves, I heard."

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?" Malfoy frowned even more and started shaking a bit.

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, you five?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yehve got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts."

Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or Yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."'

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"But there are werewolves in there and who knows what that'll get us killed!" He said shakily.

  
"Werewolves, eh? Only a few, mostly wolves and wild dogs." Hagrid said calmly, almost too calmly.

"Wild dogs? We better watch out for them, they are much more dangerous than wolves." Killian said.

"Dogs more dangerous than wolves? Don't think so." Malfoy snorted.

"It's the truth. Know why?" Killian asked.

"No, but I guess you're about to tell me."

"Wolves hunt to fill their bellies. Wild dogs kill for sport." Killian said with a serious voice.

"Jus' like humans." Hagrid said with a sigh.

"Indeed, they've learned much from us. Why not cruelty, too?" Killian said.

Hagrid nodded and the others were silent, even more terrified now.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path."

"If something comes out and attacks me I won't hesitate to cast an unforgivable!" Killian said sternly.

"Blimey, Killian! Do yer want to get yer self expelled and into Azkaban? Simple spells are enough. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"So me an' Harry, Ron an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Killian, go the other." Hagrid said.

"That's ridiculous! Are you trying to get me killed?!" Malfoy snapped. "I can barely take care of myself, your group is much safer compared to mine, all I have is this stupid wizard who wouldn't talk to me."

"I assure you Draco, Killian is a very incredibly skilled wizard for his age. He's probably more skilled than yer an' Hermione combined eh? And I can't say I can blame him for not talking to yeh."

"Fine but I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "Hope yer don't mind going with Draco, Killian."

"Does it matter if I mind? If I say no he'll just come anyway." He stormed off without another word.

"Er... Right!" Hagrid said quickly, changing the topic. "Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now -- that's it -- an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh -- so, be careful -- let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron took the left path while Malfoy, Killian, and Fang took the right.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

  
Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter -- GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry, Ron and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it, " he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Ron suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

Harry and Hermione followed Hagrid out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at a few passing centaurs until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably as if he read their thoughts, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns -- never heard anythin' like it before."

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder. He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them.

...

Meanwhile, Draco, Fang and Killian had just set off on their path, Killian was ignoring Draco and they were silent. They walked for long minutes till Draco finally broke the silence.

"It hurts, you know."

Fang barked but Killian was silent.

"You trying to ignore me? Do you know how red my face is?! My father will hear abo-"

"Shut up." Killian finally said in a stone cold voice that took Draco by surprise. Fang barked again.

"Your stupid jealously over me and those three has done nothing but cause trouble. I understand if you don't want to be friends with Harry and the others, but that doesn't give you any right to treat them like crap! That punch was well justified and may I remind you that I did warn you. I don't care if your father hears about it or not." He then stopped, and turned to Draco slowly, purple eyes finally meeting grey ones after such a long time.

Draco saw hurt, sadness, sorrow and anger in his purple eyes. He immediately felt so much regret and wanted to punch himself even more, his only friend, Killian, had trusted him, and Draco betrayed him and broke that friendship. It was him who caused this.

"But, I suppose I'm sorry for punching you and saying those mean things to you, and I'm sorry if it hurt." Killian said, his cold tone had changed into something more warm and friendly. He quickly turned around again and started walking.

But Draco stood still "Why are you apologising?"

Killian stilled again. "What?"

"This is my fault, I know now, my stupid jealously over your friendship with Potter, Granger and Weasley, and I treated you like a complete jerk. You were right to punch me because looking back now I deserved it more than I'd like to admit. I guess I am a spoiled brat. Everything was going so well after Halloween but then I got jealous, I've been too busy trying to change everyone around me to fit my standards, and if they didn't change I would be nasty to them. All along, it's me who needs changing, but I wouldn't have realised it if it wasn't for you." Draco said, voice breaking, head down.

"I'm... I'm sorry." Draco finally said. "Killian, I'm so sorry."

"You're apologising?" Killian was shocked, he had never thought he would hear the words. "I'm sorry" come out from Draco Malfoy so naturally.

Draco nodded, head still down. "For everything."

It was silent for a while.

"It's going to take time, you know?" Killian said. "After everything you've said and done to me, and to my friends I can't just pretend nothing's happened, it would be unfair."

Killian was walking closer to Draco now.

"But that doesn't mean you don't deserve a second chance either."

Draco looked up at Killian.

"But does this mean you'll forgive me? Will you be my friend again?" Draco asked, he was shaking.

"I never stopped being your friend. And I forgave you a while ago, but I just needed you to know what you've done is wrong."

Draco nodded and stood, not knowing what to say next, he held back tears and clenched his fists. Fang nudged his face against Draco's fist and whimpered slightly, Draco found himself smiling a little.

"Come here." Killian put his arms out and Draco rushed forward and clenched onto him for a bone crunching hug. He didn't realise he was sobbing loudly as he clung on tightly. Killian patted his head in soft strokes.

Draco smiled slightly as he continued to sob.

"Do you know what I thought of you when I first saw you in Diagon Alley?"

Draco shook his head.

"I saw a spoiled brat, a bully who has no respect for others. Just like you have been since the quidditch game."

Draco pulled back, he wanted to apologise again but Killian put a finger on his lip. "I'm not finished."

"Do you know what I saw the second time I saw you on the train?"

Draco shook his head again.

"I saw a boy that was conflicted, smart, special, a boy who reminded me of myself, a boy who I was too quick to judge, a boy who is actually, deep down. just like everyone else. Has feelings, has conflict and is human. I want to help him realise that it is okay, you don't have to be perfect. And it took a while, but that is the person who's standing right in front of me right now, and I could never be more proud to say that he's my friend."

Draco pulled Killian in for another hug again. "Thank you for being my friend Killian." He whispered.

"That's my job." Killian continued to pat his head but then he stopped abruptly. He was suddenly hugging Draco tighter now, as if protecting him.

"Killian? What's wrong?"

"Draco..." His gaze was fixed on something in front of him. Fang started growling loudly. Killian's voice shifted from warm to cold, and for he first time, he sounded scared.

" _Run_."

They both ran without looking back. Killian held Draco's hand as firmly as he could with Fang in front of them, Draco was panting and was slowing down, getting exhausted, Killian picked him up and carried him on his back. Killian and Fang continued running for two whole minutes then he stopped and pulled out his wand.

"I saw something. I need to find Hagrid." He shot out a red spark from his wand.

...

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You three wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Killian... it's our fault he's here in the first place." Harry sounded worried.

"I'm sure they'll be fine." Ron said, but he sounded more terrified than ever.

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Killian, and Fang were with him.

"They was attacked by somethin." Hagrid said as he walked back towards Harry.

"I didn't see properly what it was, it was wearing a hood." Killian said, he sounded a bit scared. "I actually felt...scared. I haven't felt like that in a while."

"We'll be lucky ter catch whatever that was' now, with the racket Fang's been makin'. Right, we're changin' groups -- Ron, you stay with me, Fang an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Killian an' Draco." Hagrid said to Harry,

So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Killian. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick.

Malfoy was getting more and more tired and frustrated, especially since he just broke down in front of Killian and was exhausted from the running. "My father will hear about this! I'm telling you this is ridiculous, this is slave's work."

Harry laughed. "If I don't know any better, Malfoy, I'd say you were scared."

Malfoy scoffed. "Pfft. Please."

Suddenly, a loud noise that sounded like an animal from behind caused them to stop.

"Did-did you hear that?" Malfoy asked, clearly scared.

Killian put a hand on Malfoy's shoulder and he relaxed a bit. "Calm down Draco."

Harry noticed this and was quite surprised. "Thought you hated each other?"

Killian shrugged. "Definitely not now. Took him a while though." Killian nudged at Malfoy.

"Go On. Apologise."

"Apol- are you mad?"

Killian gave him a unamused look.

"Fine. I apologise, Potter. For being jealous and causing trouble for your friendship." And for once he sounded quite sincere.

Harry nodded. "Good." He turned and continued walking.

"I don't understand, I apologised."

"Draco, actions speak louder than words. Give it time. Show them you're truly sorry."

"Well I'm not so no point in trying then."

"Draco." Killian looked him in the eye.

"Fine! I'm probably going to make such a fool out of myself, I'll be the laughing stock of the Slytherins and my family."

"For apologising?"

"Malfoys never apologise."

"Well, that's about to change isn't it? Don't worry, there's a reason why I'm friends with them, I'll make sure they won't tell anyone."

Draco for once, smiled and believed him.

They continued walking as more unicorn blood was visible. Harry thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look --" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy and Killian.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered.... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Killian stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and started to run, he hid behind Killian and clutched onto him --. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry -- unicorn blood was dribbling down its front, Harry froze in fear and Killian drew his wand out. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry -- who couldn't move because of fear.

Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. Killian grabbed him as he started to fall.

" _Stupefy_!" Killian shouted as a red spark shot from his wand, the creature was blasted back, stunned by the spell, but it quickly got up and came charging towards them again. Harry suddenly heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over the three boys, charging at the figure. Was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with white-blond hair and below the waist, a horse, a palomino body with a long Snow White tail. A centaur.

"Are you three all right?" said the centaur, walking closer to them.

The pain in Harry's head was so bad he fell to his knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When he looked up, the figure had gone, and Killian had his hand on Harry's shoulder, slowly lifting him up.

"Yes -- thank you -- what was that?" Harry asked.

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time -- especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that the three could clamber onto his back. There wasn't enough space, Killian decided to fly back by broom.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Draco asked, sounding worried and terrified.

Killian nodded before stretching his hand out into the air. " _Accio Pegasus_!"

His broom came flying and slowly steadied in his grasp. He steadied himself onto the broom before taking off with a loud swoosh.

Firenze whisked around; with Harry and Draco clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on.

  
"What was that thing you saved us from, anyway?" Harry asked.

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry to keep his head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped. "Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used -for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" Draco said, still scared from the attack from earlier. "If you're going to be cursed forever, deaths better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else -- something that will bring you back to full strength and power -- something that will mean you can never die. Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone! Of course -- the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who --"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-"

"Harry! Harry, are you all right?"  
Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her. She ignored Draco.

"I'm fine," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying.

"The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there." Draco said, voice shaking.

Just then, Killian returned and came down from his broom, before breathing a sigh of relief, seeing that they are all okay.

"Thank you." Harry said to the centaur.

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."  
Harry slid off his back.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

The moment Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room, he began to tell Ron and Hermione what had happened in the forest. Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich...."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them.

Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so.... Bane was furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen.... They must show that Voldemort's coming back.... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose everyone will be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.

When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

Just in case.

When Killian and Draco went back that night, Draco couldn't sleep at all. He was sweating, still scared of what he had seen. He clutched onto his sheets as he sat up and stared at the foot of his bed.

"Are you alright?" Killian said as he sat down on Draco's bed. "Can't sleep?" He handed Draco a glass of water.

Draco shook his head, sipping from the cup. "Do you know what that thing was?"

"Yes. I think. But you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Why? What was it?"

"...Voldemort."

Draco stopped and whimpered at the mention of his name.

"But... but who told you? How do you know it's even him?"

"I know it's just a speculation but I am almost sure it was him." Killian said. "Harry told me...But don't worry, as long as Dumbledore is around he can't hurt anyone. Now sleep, I'll be here."

Draco was now even more scared, he placed his hand on Killian's, seeking comfort. Killian stayed until Draco was fast asleep. He smiled at the sleeping boy before returning to his bed.

Except there was one slight problem nobody knew at this moment. _Harry didn't tell Killian it was Voldemort. Nobody did._


	15. Through the Trapdoor

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. Neville and Seamus thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron, Killian and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, especially Ron, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

...

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds, they had just finished their last exam. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, Killian didn't mind as much, but would get pretty annoyed over time, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting -- it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming...."

"It hurts especially when you think about Voldemort, right?" Killian asked.

"Stop saying that bloody name!" Ron said, but he couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down." Ron said with a sigh.

Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important.

Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but --

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. "Where're you going?" said Killian.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off." He saw the four of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head -- that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here.... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks.... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home.... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he -- did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well -- yeah -- how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep --"  
Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey -- where're yeh goin'?"

Harry, Killian, Ron and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak -- it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

"I know where it --" Killian began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?" It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, Harry and Ron thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harry swallowed -- now what?

"It's sort of secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Ron frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Mr Weasley, he has many demands on his time --"

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter."

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds,

"Professor -- it's about the Philosopher's stone --"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. "How do you know --?" she spluttered.

"Professor, I think -- I know -- that Sn-" Killian nudged at Harry, he had almost spit out Snape's name by accident.

"-that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore." Harry finished.

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.  
"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor --"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

But they didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot.

"Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"Look I don't think it's Snape at all."

It was silent for a whole minute before Harry spoke again.

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.

The other three stared at him. He was pale and his emerald eyes were glittering.

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"Harry, listen to yourself!" said Killian.

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT!" Harry shouted, he had forgotten he was in a library and his tone shifted back to a whisper. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you three say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my family, remember?"

He glared at them and he was panting.

Killian put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You're right Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all four of us?" said Ron.

"All -- all four of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?" Killian said with a smile.

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."

"But if we get caught, you three will be expelled, too." Ron said.

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

...

After dinner, Killian had agreed to meet with them later outside the Gryffindor common room, he had went back to his dorm first. Slowly, the Gryffindor common room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

  
"Better get the cloak, Killian should be waiting outside now." Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning.

Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He putted out the cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy -- he didn't feel much like singing.

He ran back down to the common room.

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us -- if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own --" Then a loud croak sounded as they turned their attention to the armchair. Trevor, Neville's frog was resting on the armrest and croaking.

"Trevor!" Ron said, " Trevor! Shh! Go! You shouldn't be here!"

"Neither should you." said a voice from the armchair.

Neville sat up and stared at their guilty faces. "You're sneaking out again, aren't you?" he said.

Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"Now Neville, listen." Harry said as calm as possible. "We wer-"

"No! I won't let you. You'll get Gryffindor into trouble again!" he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole, he clinched his fists. "I... I'll fight you!"

Hermione stepped forward.  
"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this." She raised her wand.

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " she cried, pointing it at Neville.

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Ron gulped.

"You're a little bit scary sometimes. Brilliant! But scary." said Ron as they stepped over him.

Harry stared once last time at Neville's frozen state before proceeding. "Let's go."

They exited the portrait hole to greet Killian, only to see Malfoy standing with him. They ignored him and turned to Killian, who was looking guilty. 

"What's the git doing here?" Ron asked angrily.

"Killian, This wasn't the plan." Hermione said.

"I'm sorry, I tried st-" Killian started.

"I wanted to come." Draco said confidently.

"Why? So you can annoy us to death before Snape kills us?" Ron snapped back.

"Well for starters it appears I'm saving you idiots." Draco snapped backed"And I was worried Killian might have gotten hurt."

They all stopped silent for a second.

 _Malfoy? Worried?_ Harry thought.

"Well that's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard." Ron said, breaking the silence.

"I'm pretty sure that's not true." Draco said back.

"Guys, we're wasting time! There's nothing we can do now, let's just hope Malfoy can make himself useful." Harry said.

"How do you know if the cloak will fit?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Let's just hope it does." Harry said as he pulled out the cloak.

Thankfully, it had JUST fit enough for the five of them to remain invisible, though they had to squeeze as close as ever, they were shoulder to shoulder and had to walk as slow as possible to avoid stepping on each other. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves the Poltergeist was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.  
"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

Harry had a sudden idea.

"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake -- I didn't see you -- of course I didn't, you're invisible -- forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Killian with a giggle.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor -- and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other four.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

"We're in this together." said Killian.

They turned to Malfoy. 

"Okay fine whatever. I can't leave anyway because I'll be caught. Consider this a truce Potter." Draco said as he rolled his eyes.

Killian smiled as they all turned and Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What is that?" Draco whispered into Killian's ear. "I can't see. It's dark."

"Oh. It's a giant three headed dog that would probably be the last thing we see if the music stops."

Draco swallowed and started heading to the door. Obviously terrified.

Killian stopped and held his hand. "No backing out now. Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Draco blushed deeply and nodded timidly.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased -- it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Killian, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"Ron?"

"All right."

Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing -- just black -- there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Killian to get his attention and pointed at himself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Killian. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.

Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"I sense a trap." Killian said.

"Next move?" Ron asked.

"Spring the trap." Killian smiled and looked at Harry.

Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and -- _FLUMP_. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.

"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry. "What's this stuff?" were his first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Killian!"

Draco jumped next And was followed by Killian.

"Now! Hermione!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side.

"We must be miles under the school , she said. "Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you all!"

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for the other four, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.

The plants' vines started to grip the five, as they struggled to fight it off it seemed to get tighter.

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "All of you! This is Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Draco, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

"Shut up! You have to relax! If you don't it will only kill you faster!" said Killian, who seemed too calm.

"Kill us faster?! Oh now I can relax!" Ron gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

Hermione gave a sarcastic smile as she sank down, disappearing from sight.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron screamed. They were getting more and more panicked. Just then Killian sank down as well.

"Killian!" Draco shouted.

The remaining three boys looked at each other.

"Now what are we going to do?!" Ron said, panicking.

"JUST RELAX!" Hermione shouted from below.

"SHE'S RIGHT! YOU HAVE TO STOP STRUGGLING AND RELAX!" Killian joined in.

Draco and Harry seemed to calm down a bit, but Ron was still panicking.

"WHERE ARE YOU TWO?" Harry shouted down.

"DO AS WE SAY! TRUST US!" Hermione shouted in reply.

Harry closed his eyes and relaxed and he sank. Draco saw him and followed his example and sank down as well.

"AHHHH!!! HARRY! MALFOY!" Ron was now struggling even more.

Harry and Draco fell down to an open cave-like space.

"Are you two okay?" Hermione asked, helping Harry up as Killian helped Draco.

"Yeah! Yeah I'm fine!" Harry said in a hurry.

"Weasley!" Draco suddenly said and they all immediately looked up.

"HELP!! HELP ME!" Ron's shouts we're getting weaker now.

"He's not relaxing, isn't he?" Hermione said.

"Apparently not." Harry said, looking up to the space where he fell.

"We've got to do something!" Killian said.

"WHAT?!" Harry was getting more panicked as well now.

"I remember reading something in Herbology!" Hermione said, pacing back and forth. "Devil's snare. Devil's snare. It's deadly fast- But would sulk in the sun! That's it! Devil's snare hates sunlight! What's the incantation?!"

Killian pulled out his wand this time. " _Lumos Solem!_ "

Ron's screams got louder again as he fell through and handed with a thump.

"Ron you okay?" Harry said, rushing over.

Ron got up and looked up. "Phew! Lucky we didn't panic." He looked back down and was stared at by four unamused faces.

"Lucky Granger pays attention in Herbology." Draco said with a sarcastic sigh.

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, a small fluttering sound can be heard.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.  
Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"What is that?" Draco asked.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" Hermione asked. 

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me." Harry replied. "There's light ahead -- I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Killian tried the _Alohomora_ charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"Curious... I’ve never seen birds like these." said Hermione. They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering -- glittering?

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! And I bet one of them fits that door.” 

They spotted three broomsticks floating below the flying keys, but they can all sense that something’s not right. 

“What’s this all about?” Hermione asked while looking at the broomsticks. 

“I don’t know.” 

"What are we going to do? There must be a thousand keys in here!” Draco said, panicking slightly. 

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one -- probably silver, like the handle." Killian examined the lock. 

Harry suddenly shouted. “Over there! The one with the broken wing!” Harry pointed at the key. 

Killian and Harry both looked at the broomsticks before Draco came beside them, and stood next to Killian, behind one of the broomsticks. 

“What’s wrong, Killian?” Draco asked. 

“It’s too simple.” He stared at the brooms.

“Killian’s right. It’s a trap.” Harry said. 

“Oh go on guys! If Snape can catch it on that old broomstick then you can! Aren’t you both seekers?” Ron looked at Harry and smiled. “Harry, you’re the youngest seeker in a century!” 

Harry smiled at him before looking at Killian and nodded. 

Killian looked at Draco and smiled. “Can you help us out Draco?” 

Draco only nodded and stood in front of a broomstick.

Killian, Harry and Draco each seized a broomstick, the moment they touched them the keys flared to life, becoming missles and arrows. They mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Draco went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, almost crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Malfoy, you come at it from above -- Killian, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Draco dived, Killian rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber they were still standing in front of the door, looking up.

They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned -- it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked the other four, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly -- the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"We'll need someone to lead us."said Draco.

"Ron, you're good at chess, aren't you?" Killian said with a smile.

"Only the best." Ron smirked.

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we -- er -- have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other four.

"This needs thinking about he said. I suppose we've got to take the place of five of the black pieces...."

"Okay Ron, tell us what to do." 

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him in place of that castle, Malfoy, you can be the other bishop, and Killian, you can be the queen."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, two bishops, a castle and the queen turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving five empty squares that Harry, Killian, Draco, Ron, and Hermione took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. 

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Hermione was shaking. “Ron... you don’t suppose this would be like...real...wizard’s chess, do you?” 

Ron looked uncertain. He looked over at a black pawn. “You there! D5” 

The pawn moved to its square as they watched in horror as the white pawn took him.

Ron gulped and looked back at Hermione, shaking. “Yes Hermione, I think this is going to be exactly like wizard’s chess.”

”Oh I should have stayed in the bloody room.” Draco whimpered as he shook with fear.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry -- move diagonally four squares to the right."  
Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken.

"Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

Killian looked around then turned to Ron. “Wait a minute...” 

"You understand now, Killian..." said Ron softly, "Once I make my move, the queen will take me, then Harry will be free to checkmate the king."

"No! Ron, No!" Harry shouted.

”What is it?” Hermione asked with a whimper. 

“He’s going to sacrifice himself!”

Hermione gasped. “No you can’t! There must be another way!”

"Wesley! You don't even know if they're going to make that move!" Draco said, he actually sounded concerned for Ron.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some risks and sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me, I'm sure of it!"

"But --"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron --"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"  
There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed and started to run towards Ron but was stopped by Killian’s shout.

“NO! Don’t move! Don’t forget we’re still playing!” 

Shaking, Harry moved to his square. “Checkmate.”

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. Hermione immediately ran over to Ron.

"I'll take care of him. Now take this and go, it'll help you with your next obstacle." Hermione gave them a notebook, full of her notes, before giving him a hug. “You’ll be okay Harry, you’re a great wizard. You really are.”

"Not as good as you." Harry said with a smile.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful! Killian, Draco. Take care of him for me!"

They nodded. Harry, Draco and Killian charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's --?" Draco asked.

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself.

"Hermione's with him. He'll be fine." Killian sounded sure.

"What do you reckon's next?" Draco asked timidly.

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, Snape's's potions and something left by Dumbledore perhaps. "

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on." Killian nudged him.

Harry pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"Quirrell's..." Killian said quietly.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs.

"Come on, Potter. I can't breathe." Draco complained.

He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Look!" Killian seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over his shoulder to read it:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Draco suddenly let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that he was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," said Draco, looking over Killian's shoulder to see the parchment. "This isn't magic -- it's logic -- a puzzle."

"So what do we do?"

"Listen closely, Potter." said Draco. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"I don't really know."

"Wait, Use this." He gave him Hermione's notes.

Draco read the notebook then the paper several times. Then he walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to himself and pointing at them. At last, he clapped his hands.

"Got it," be said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire -- towards the next obstacle. Thank Granger for this notebook, or else we'd be stuck here for who knows how long."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for two of us," he said. "That's hardly two sips."

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" Harry asked.

Draco pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Killian suddenly.

"Killian, no I can't just-"

"No, listen, get back and get Ron and Hermione. Grab brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy -- go straight to the owlery and send my Raven, Eris, to Dumbledore, she’s magical and could got to him without any setbacks, we need the headmaster more than ever. Harry and I might be able to hold off whoever's behind this for a while. We'll come look for you afterwards."

"But Killian -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

"There you have it." Killian said with a smile.

Draco's lip trembled, and he suddenly dashed at Killian and threw his arms around him.

"Oh Draco..."

"Killian -- I know I'm not always the nicest person to be aro-"

"I know. I know. I'll be okay." said Killian, very embarrassed, as he let go of him.

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Pretty sure, I hope Granger's notes aren't wrong," said Draco. He took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Killian anxiously.

"No -- but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck, -- Don't you dare let anything happen to Killian, Potter."

"I won't !"

"Now go! We'll be fine." Killian smiled.

Draco turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle, he took one sip then handed it to Killian. They turned to face the black flames.

"Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. Killian put the bottle down and walked forward; they braced themselves, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them -- for a moment they could see nothing but dark fire -- then they were on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there -- but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Qurriell.


	16. The Man with Two Faces

"You!" gasped Harry.

"I knew it wasn't Snape." Killian gasped.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Mr Potter." He turned to Killian and scoffed. "Never expected you though Mr Charming."

"But I thought -- Snape --"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell? You should have listened to your...friend here, after all. He did almost catch me but you persuaded him it was Snape, and he stopped."

Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save Harry?" Killian asked again.

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee his next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you two tonight."

"You'll have to get through me if you want to even touch Harry." Killian snapped and drew his wand.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

Quirrell's wand flew out of his hand and Killian caught it, but the professor just looked at him and laughed. "Oh Mr. Charming, you should know better than to attack a teacher, especially when they know both wordless and wandless magic."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Killian and Harry.

Killian tried to fight it off and shoot spells at it but it backfired and he was blasted against the wall and fainted.

"Killian!!"

Quirrell continued laughing.

"You will pay for this! Don't you dare hurt him! Don't you even dare think to kill him!" Harry shouted.

"Oh I'm not going to kill him. I'm just going to hurt him really really bad. "

"No! You'll have to go through me first! You'll have to kill me."

"It would be my pleasure to do so. You see, you're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls -- you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off -- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back...."

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest --" he blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side...."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?" Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror."

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Snape was threatening you...."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions -- he is a great wizard and I am weak --"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."

Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily...."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley -how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath. "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind was racing.

What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myseff finding it -- which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

_"Use the boy... Use the boy..."_

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes -- Potter -- come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet. Harry looked back and saw Killian still laying unconscious on the ground.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

_I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all._

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket -- and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow -- incredibly -- he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?" Harry screwed up his courage.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I -- I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

_"He lies... He lies..."_

"Potter!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

_"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."_

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

_"I have strength enough... for this...."_

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

 _"Harry Potter..."_ it whispered. _"We meet again."_

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move. He knew who that was.

"Voldemort."

 _"Yes...See what I have become?"_ the face said. _"See what I must do to survive? Live off another... and be a parasite! Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own... but there is something that can... Something that can be enough that is in your pocket!!"_

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward and proceeded to run to the stairs, grabbing Killian.

_"Stop him!"_

Quirrell snapped his fingers and a fire was now blocking his exit, the room was not lit alight.

 _"Don't be a fool,"_ snarled the face. _"Why suffer from death? When you can join me and live?"_

"NEVER!" Harry shouted.

 _"Bravery..."_ it hissed. _"Your parents had it too.... Tell me, Harry. Would you like to see your mother and father again? Together, we can bring them back. All I ask is for something in return."_

"NO! YOU MURDERED MY PARENTS AND MY BROTHER."

Voldemort laughed evilly. _"Oh Yes, my boy.... See, I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you.... your brother however, I never had the chance to kill him, you see. But now, I do."_ Voldemort looked over at Killian. _"Your brother hid. He ran away. Your brother betrayed you, used you. He never even came back for you, left you alone to rot."_

Harry suddenly realised. All along. Killian was his brother. His protector. He had never realised it until now.

_But somehow Harry had know. He had always known._

How he had appeared in his doorstep with Hagrid. Knowing so much about Harry and Voldemort, even just treating Harry more friendly and brotherly like than others. It all made sense now.

_"Don't you want to be one big happy family again? With our powers combined we can bring your parents back and you and your brother would have a life of happiness."_

Harry looked into the mirror and saw his parents staring back at him with a smile, he took the stone out from his pocket.

_"That's it Harry. There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it. Together we can do extraordinary things. You already know what I am capable of, I can give you anything you ask for. Just give me the stone!"_

"I...can never be a part of that!"

Harry sprang toward the flame door and stopped next to Killian to lift him up, but Voldemort screamed " _KILL HIM_!" and the next second, Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet' landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck -- Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain. Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. Harry yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him, bewildered, at his own palms -- Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny. Quirrell stepped back screaming in agony. The pain in his head lessened -- he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers -- they were blistering before his eyes. His hand had started crumbling like ash.

"What is this magic?!" Quirrell screamed. "Master, I cannot hold him -- my hands -- my hands!"

 _"Fool! Get the stone!"_ shrieked Voldemort again,

Quirrell raised his hand and was about to lunge forward, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face -- Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible  pain -- his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

"AAAARGH!"

Harry let go and Quirrell faced was now grey and crumbling, but he still continued to walk towards Harry, a hand stretched back.

"Avada K-"

Harry put his arms up then heard a shout.

" _Reducto!!_ "

A blast of magic erupted and Quirrell exploded into grey ashes, his robes falling to the ground.

Killian was panting and looking at the empty robes, wand raised in his hand, half sitting up.

"You took my parents, my mother. You took everything from me. But you will never take my brother away from me ever again."

He collapsed again and panted. Harry rushed over to Killian.

"Killian, are you okay?" Killian smiled at him.

"I will be." He then fainted again out of exhaustion.

Harry felt the stone in his pocket and pulled it out, he smiled at it as he examined the red crystal. Suddenly, something from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

A thick pile of smoke swirled where Quirrell's robes were and the face of Voldemort came into view. Harry backed away as Voldemort let out a shout and passed through Harry, disappearing into the flames, Harry shouted and fell , dropping the stone on his hand as he fainted next to Killian.

...

Harry blinked as he awoke, his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. He looked around. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.

Dumbledore was now walking in. "Good afternoon Harry." He smiled and stopped by the table. "Ah. Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming.

"Admirers?"

"What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I see that your friend Ronald has saved you the trouble of opening your chocolate frogs."

"Ron was here? Is he alright? What about Hermione? And Malfoy? And- "

Dumbledore raised his hand "Fine. They're all just fine. And so is your brother."

"Did you know?"

"Yes, I knew long before."

Harry paused for a moment. Killian was his brother. The memories of his encounter with Voldemort now come running back.

"Why didn't he come find me all those years ago? Why didn't he tell me?"

"Such things are quite difficult to tell people, Harry. You have to understand that, but I can tell you that he never stopped loving you. But you'll have to ask those questions to him yourself. And perhaps it is best that this currently remains a secret between the three of us. Although if you truly trust your friends Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, you can tell them, but you do need to ask your brother's permission first."

Harry smiled and nodded. He suddenly remembers about the stone. "What happened to the stone?" He asked frantically.

"Relax, my dear boy. The stone has been destroyed. My friend Nicholas and I had a little chat and agreed it was best."

"But then Nicholas and his wife. They'll die, won't they?"

Dumbledore now sat down on his bed. "They has enough elixir to set their affairs in order. But yes, they will die, but fret not, after all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"And there's something else..."

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape --"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him -- Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy, although I can't say for sure now. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt.... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace...."

Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.

"How is it I got the stone sir?" One minute I was staring at the mir-"

"Ah you see. Only a person who wanted to find the stone. Find it but not use it, would be able to get it." He leant closer and smiled. "That is one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that is saying something."

Harry nodded and smiled. "Does that mean, with the stone gone that is, that Voldemort can never come back."

Dumbledore's smile dropped slightly. "Ah I'm afraid, that there are ways in which he can return."

He sat up but then looked at Harry again. "Harry, do you know why professor Quirrell couldn't bear to have you touch him?"

Harry shook his head.

"It was because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you. And that kind of act leaves a mark."

Harry was about to point to his famous scar but then Dumbledore stopped him.

"Oh no, this kind of mark cannot be seen. It lives in your very skin."

"What is it?"

"Love, Harry. Love." He smiled and patted him on the head.

He walked over to Harry's candy filled table.

"Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomitflavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them -- but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!" He smiled at Harry and took his leave.

He stopped by the door and greeted Ron, Hermione, Killian, and surprisingly, Draco as they rushed next to Harry.

"Harry!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to -- Dumbledore was so worried --"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Draco. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Killian being his brother. Draco, Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that -- what was it? -- 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you three?" said Harry.

"Well, I got back all right," said Draco.  "I brought Weasley and Granger round -- that took a while -- and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall -- he already knew -- he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did -- I mean to say that's terrible -- you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me  
find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could...."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly.

"Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course -- you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you -- but the food'll be good."

At that moment, he looks over at Killian, who hasn't said a thing.

"Can we have a moment guys?"

They all looked at him, then to Killian and left without another word.

Silence hung in the air for who knows how long until Killian finally spoke.

"I suppose you have a lot of questions."

Harry sat up and budged up, gesturing him to sit next to him. Killian sat down.

Harry looked at him and smiled. “You’re my brother.”

Killian smiled back. “Yes. I know.”

Harry gave him a hug before pulling back and smiled. “Somehow I’ve known. I always have. It just took me a bit of time to realise it.”

Killian smiled back and it was silent for a while.

"How come you didn't look for me all those years ago?"

Killian laughed a bit. "I wanted to, I really did, I've been trying for so long to reach you, but only Dumbledore and a few others knew the true location of where you were, you were to remain hidden until your eleventh birthday. Even Hagrid wouldn't tell me. When it reached your birthday I rushed with Hagrid to your house the moment I found out your location. I'm sorry if you'd had to spend eleven years of hell. I really wished I could do something but it was probably safer for you."

"It's okay, Killian. I guess I was safer, in a way."

Killian smiled faintly.

"Killian. What really happened that night? Were you there? Where did you go afterwards?"

Killian froze hauntingly before continuing. "It was life changing, terrifying, evil takes a human form in Lord Voldemort.”

He sighed. “See, Harry...I was never really your real brother. Your parents adopted me when they were still very young, almost too young to even be parents. They adopted me while they were still at Hogwarts, their last year to be exact. I was six and I had lived with them ever since, then when I turned eight, they had you. It was the happiest day of our lives. But then, Voldemort came and ruined everything. I saw dad get killed right in front of me. His last words were...' _Protect Harry._ ' but I was too scared, I hid and I heard her scream. I was a coward. I was fearful. It was quiet for so long. And when I came out of hiding again, all that was left was her lying on the ground, still with her eyes open. And there you were, still crying with a lighting scar on your forehead. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. I was a coward. I let them die. It was all my fault. I was weak and scared." Killian started crying but his face was emotionless. 

Harry wrapped his arms around him.

"Killian don't you dare say that. There was nothing you could have done that would have changed what happened. And, I promise it's not your fault. I promise it was never your fault."

Killian smiled and nodded weakly.

"What happened afterwards?"

"I carried you and ran out of the house. And then Dumbledore found us and brought you to the Dursley's and for the first two months, I stayed at the Weasleys. Ron and the twins were still babies so they don’t remember me, afterwards Dumbeldore took me to somewhere safe after those two months, I still can't tell you where yet and I'm sorry." Killian said with a sigh.

"You know the Weasleys?" Harry replied.

”Molly, Arthur, Bill and Charlie.” He smiled. “Although I haven’t seen them in five forever.” 

“Well we can visit them over the summer! I’m probably going to Ron’s house.” 

“Really?” Killian asked with glee.

”Yes.” Harry smiled at him.

 It was silent again before Killian continued on with his story.

"I promised dad to protect you so I cast a time freezing spell on myself in secret, I asked Dumbledore for help and only he knew. I did it the moment I turned eleven. I stayed eleven years old until my birthday this year year. I did this so I can grow up with you and stay with you and make sure you are safe everywhere you go. It's the least I can do for mum and dad. Nobody knew about me, about your brother and how he lived as well, Dumbledore helped me remove and change the memories of myself from people to protect us both. But I suppose now the truth's all coming all out again."  Killian finished and he was drying his tears.

"Is that why you gave me a hug he first time I saw you?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to so many times, that night when you said the boy in the mirror looked like me oh how I wish I could. I thought you might be mad at me or you'll hate me. It haunts me everyday knowing that it's my fault that they're dead, that they're gone because of me. I can hurt myself but I can't hurt you."

Harry hugged him even tighter. "You never hurt me. You saved me. But I can't stand to see you hurt as well."

Killian smiled again. "Thank you Harry."

Harry smiled "What did you see in the mirror?"  He asked again.

"I saw the same as you, mum and dad, you and me. One happy family. But it was impossible, and when I saw those faces smiling as if saying everything is going to be okay. I just can't believe it, and the pain and nightmares come back. I left you alone. I am a terrible brother. I wasn't there when you needed me to be."

"No, Killian. Please. Stop saying that. There was nothing you could have done. You were a child, Killian, you were defenceless. No matter what people say or what you think, you are the best brother anyone can ever ask for."

Killian hugged him even tighter. After awhile Harry pulled back with a smile.

"And seriously? Charming?" Harry asked with a laugh.

Killian rolled his eyes. "Not you as well, come on it's not THAT bad."

Harry laughed even more. Just then, he spotted a chess board next to the bed stand and lifted it up to his bed.

"Chess?" Harry smiled and gestured.

"Sure. If I win, you have to give me your invisibility cloak."

"What?!"

"I'm just kidding. If I win you'll have to give me your wizard's chess set you got for Christmas."

"Ok fine... but if I win I get to tell everyone."

"Sure. Which house?"

"Let's start with Gryffindor."

"If you want, you can still tell Hermione and Ron when I win though."

"Let's find out shall we?"

They stayed there playing for what seemed like hours until Harry had to rest and Killian had to go and eat dinner. Killian won the game obviously. They had a laugh and Killian hugged Harry again.

"We love you so much, Harry. We all do. Mum, Dad and me."

"Me too Killian. Thank you for coming back to me."

"You are so special Harry, never forget that."

Killian gave Harry a soft kiss on his head before exiting he hospital wing.

After a good night's sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal.

...

Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone the next night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him. He looked over to see Draco and Killian engaging in a active conversation, Killian's eyes met Harry's and he gave him a nod. Harry smiled and turned back to his friends. The whispers were getting louder now.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...."

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and twenty-one; Ravenclaw has three hundred and fifty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table, Killian was cheering as well while trying to calm Malfoy down.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."  
The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little. Except Killian's whose smile became even wider.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes..."

"First -- to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second -- to Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Draco Malfoy... both for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, and for Miss Granger's knowledge in different aspects of charms, Herbology and problem solving skills. I award Gryffindor house sixty points and Slytherin house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves -- they were a hundred points up. The Slytherins clapped as well, they roared with excitement but some complained that Hermione got more points than Draco. But Draco, for some reason, was humble as ever. He told his friends. "It was her notes that saved us. I just read them."

"Third, to Mr. Killian Charming..." Dumbledore said with a smile, the hall went quiet and there were a few whispers. "For outstanding advanced knowledge and skill in spell casting and standing up to even teachers. I award Slytherin house fifty points."

The Slytherin table erupted with cheers. It took a full minute for the clapping to die down.

"Fourth -- to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet "...for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house seventy points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and ninety-two points -- they were second to Slytherin. They were only eleven points away from winning -- if only Dumbledore had given them each just a few more points.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award fifteen points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. But after a while, he smiled and started clapping slowly, looking over at Harry, Ron and Hermione and giving them a curt nod, Killian was clapping as well, the only Slytherin standing up and he was smiling happily as Harry ushered him to join them at the Gryffindor table.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Killian had just came over and gave Harry, Ron and Hermione each a hug, and a firm handshake to Neville, who smiled shyly in return. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... he would never, ever forget tonight.

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life. Malfoy also passed with flying colours, only second to Hermione in all written exams. Killian was first in all practical exams but his written exams were only average. They had hoped that Crabbe and Goyle, who were almost as stupid as they were mean, might be thrown out, but they, unfortunately, had passed as well.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays.

"I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly.

Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; people were now boarding the Hogwarts Express as Hagrid helped ushering them. "Come on now, up yer get." Hagrid loaded his trunk and Hedwig onto the train as Hermione got on, he stopped and looked at the platform, Killian was standing with Hagrid. Both smiling and waving. Draco there as well, saying goodbye to Killian. Draco looked over to Harry and gave him a small nod of truce.

"Killian?" Draco said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for being my friend this year, I have never been happier." Draco said with tears in his eyes.

"Don't worry Draco, you'll see me soon. You can owl me whenever you want."

Draco gave him a bone crushing hug and hesitantly got into the train, he found a compartment and looked out the window, waving at Killian enthusiastically.

"See you later, Charming."

Killian laughed and waved back.

"Why thank you, Malfoy, see you soon."

Draco chuckled and pulled the blinds and was out of sight.

Harry smiled in the distance as Killian and Hagrid turned towards him.

"Come on, Harry." Hermione said as she stepped into the train.

"One minute." Harry ran towards Hagrid and Killian.

Hagrid raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. "Thought yer were leaving without saying' goodbye, did yer?"

Hagrid took out a large book from his pocket. "This is for you."

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father and some included Killian, though he looked a bit younger from now.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos... knew yeh didn' have any... d'yeh like it?"

Harry looked up at him, eyes wet with happy tears. "Thanks Hagrid."

Hagrid nodded and shook his hand, but Harry pulled himself into a hug. "Oh boy, here come the waterworks." Hagrid sniffed and pulled away. "Oh an' listen Harry, if that dope of a cousin of yers. Dudley, gives yer any trouble. Yer can always uh... threaten him for the nice pair of ears to go with that tail of his."

"But Hagrid, we're not allowed to do magic away from Hogwarts. You know that."

"I do. But yer cousin don't do he? Eh?" Hagrid said with a wink. He smiled and walked further down the station, ushering more kids to get on the train. Harry turned to Killian.

"When will I see you again? Why don't you come with me? Can I please go with you?"

"Harry, for now it's best for the both of us to be apart for a little while, for our safety. Just for a bit. I know it sounds really bad but remember, you can still owl me, I'll owl you every other day."

Harry couldn't hold back his tears. Killian couldn't either, he pulled him in a deep hug.

"I don't want to go. I just found you. I don't want to leave you again. I'm going to miss you." Harry said, voice breaking.

Killian patted his head and pulled himself back so that emerald eyes are staring into purple ones. "Harry James Potter. You are the bravest young man I have ever met. You have shown the world who you are, and what you are capable of, you are a boy who I could never be more proud to call my brother, and I will miss you dearly as well."

Harry nodded and wiped his tears with his sleeve. Killian wiped his own tears then put both his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Remember Harry. I'll be always in here." He places his hand onto his heart. " _Always_."

Harry smiled and hesitantly started to walk back to where Hermione and Ron were waiting, just by one of the doors of the train.

"Feels strange to be going home, doesn't it?" Hermione said.

Harry stopped at the first step. "I'm not going home." He looked over at Killian who was smiling and Hagrid walked up next to him, they both laughed and smiled. Harry smiled again. "No. Not really."

The whistle blew and they got on the train into their compartment.

Harry stuck his head out the window and continued waving at his brother and the giant. Smiling while fighting back the tears. But he was happy. He couldn't have been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! If you enjoyed this please leave kudos and I will the answering any questions relating to Killian or anything else. 
> 
> The second book will be out a week later! Thanks for reading guys! xx
> 
> -will


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